BERKELEV 

LIERARY 

UNIVtrulTY   OF 
CAL!FCRN»A 


Some    Actors 

in 

Our     Lord's    Passion 


By 
REV.  HERMANN  LILIENTHAL,  M.A. 

Author  of  "Lefit — Past  and  Present " 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

THE  RT.  REV.  THOMAS  MARCH  CLARK,  D.D.,  L.L.D. 

Bishop  of  Rhode  Island  and  Presiding  Bishop 


NEW  YORK 
THOMAS  WHITTAKER 

2  AND  3  BIBLE  HOUSE 
1903 


i^jq^OZbO 


Copyright,  1903, 
By  Thomas  Whittaker 


LOAN  STACK 


THE  CAXTON  PRESS 
NEW  YORK. 


— fylOO  <i 


®o  fUt]  tDife, 

My  Companion  in  Thought, 

My  Helpmeet  in  Life, 

I  Inscribe 

This  Book. 


I, .'     887 


Introduction 

THERE  are  many  people  who,  when  they 
read  anything  which  seems  to  them  par- 
ticularly heavy  and  wearisome,  are  apt  to  say, 
"  It  is  as  dull  as  a  sermon  "  ;  but  if  all  discourses 
were  like  those  contained  in  this  book,  one 
would  be  more  likely  to  say  of  what  pleased 
them,  "  It  is  as  interesting  as  a  sermon." 

The  writer  paints  with  his  pen,  and  the  lights 
and  shadows  are  so  adjusted,  that  the  figures 
stand  before  us  with  wondrous  vividness,  while 
the  men  he  describes  are  prominent  actors  in 
the  most  solemn  and  eventful  transaction  which 
ever  took  place  on  earth. 

The  first  subject  fills  us  with  horror  and  we 
wonder  how  it  was  possible  for  Judas  to  have 
found  entrance  into  the  household  of  Jesus  and, 
for  so  long  a  time,  to  have  remained  there,  but 


vi  Introduction 


the  careful  and  discriminating  analysis  of  his 
character  helps  us  to  solve  the  mystery. 

The  history  of  Peter  also  is  told  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  clear  the  inconsistencies  of  his  con- 
duct— while  that  of  Pontius  Pilate  is  so  search- 
ing and  thorough  as  to  destroy  any  doubts  as  to 
his  real  desire  and  intentions  and  to  justify  the 
perpetual  recalling  of  his  name  in  our  Creed — 
since  he  was  chief  among  the  murderers  of  our 
Lord. 

The  sketches  of  Herod  and  Barabbas  are  drawn 
with  wonderful  fidehty  and  in  a  manner  which 
impresses  our  minds  with  the  terrible  wicked- 
ness of  the  men  who  controlled  the  events  of 
this  period,  and  the  horrible  degradation  of  the 
people  who  chose  that  the  robber  Barabbas 
should  be  pardoned  and  the  Holy  Jesus  crucified. 

I  wish  that  these  discourses  might  be  read  in 
every  parish  during  Lent,  for  they  have  touched 
me  more  deeply  than  any  sermons  which  I  have 
ever  read,  and  since  I  am  in  my  ninety-first  year 
this  is  saying  a  great  deal. 

They  must  appeal  to  the  young  as  well  as  to 


Introduction  vii 


the  mature  mind — because  of  their  simpHcity 
and  the  dramatic  interest  with  which  every  sub- 
ject is  surrounded :  and  will  be  listened  to  by  a 
class  of  people  who  are  not  ordinarily  moved  by 
appeals  from  the  pulpit. 

I  wish  that  the  book  might  not  only  fall  into 
the  hands  of  every  intelligent  layman  for  private 
perusal,  but  be  placed  on  the  study  table  of  all 
the  clergymen  of  the  Church,  since  no  one  can 
fail  to  be  impressed,  in  heart  and  conscience 
with  the  truths  embodied  here,  or  not  be  im- 
pelled with  a  great  desire  to  convey  to  others 
the  solemn  lessons  contained  in  these  discourses. 

The  sermons  for  Good  Friday  and  Easter  must 
especially  bring  us  very  near  to  Christ  and  fill 
us  with  a  profound  sense  of  the  terrible  emer- 
gency which  brought  Him  down  to  earth  and 
nailed  Him  to  the  Cross  on  Calvary. 

Thomas  M.  Clark. 

Bishops  House y  i 

Providence y  R.  /., 

December  ^thy  igo2. 


Preface 

SOME  Actors  in  Our  Lord's  Passion  "  is  a 
course  of  Sermons  preached  in  Lent,  1902, 
in  Christ  Church,  Hartford,  Conn.  To  complete 
the  theme  there  are  added  two  sermons — one  for 
Good-Friday,  and  one  for  Easter-day — preached 
in  connection  with  the  same  course.  At  the  re- 
quest of  friends  these  sermons  are  now  given  a 
wider  circulation. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  these  are  sermons,  not 
essays,  preached,  not  read,  hence  the  retention 
of  the  direct  address. 

The  author,  finally,  desires  to  return  his  sincere 
thanks  to  the  venerable  and  revered  Bishop  of 
Rhode  Island,  and  Presiding  Bishop  of  the 
Church,  who  admitted  the  author  a  candidate  for 
orders,  and  advanced  him  to  the  Priesthood,  and 
now  has  kindly  written  a  word  of  introduction 
for  these  sermons  preached  from  the  pulpit  of 

ix 


-^  Preface 

the    parish    of  which    the    Bishop    was    himself 

sometime  rector,  thus  strengthening  the  former 

bond   of  association,  both  with  the  parish  and 

the  author. 

H.  L. 

Hartford,  Conn., 
December,  jgo2. 


Contents 


Judas 


Matt,  xxvi :  24,  25. 


Peter 


II 


Luke  xxii:  61,  62. 


23 


Caiaphas 


Pontius  Pilate 


III 


IV 


John  xi :  49,  50. 


Matt,  xxvii :  24. 


43 


63 


Herod 


V 


Luke  xxiii :  8,  9. 


85 


Barabbas 


VI 


John  xviii :  39,  40. 


105 


XI 


xii  Cojitents 

VII 

The     Meaning     of    the    Cross    (Good 

Friday) 125 

John  xix :  18. 

VIII 

Christ's  Resurrection  the  Answer  to 
THE  Enigma  of  Death  (An  Easter 
Sermon) 141 

I  Cor.  XV :  22. 


I 

Judas 


Some  Actors  in  Our  Lord's 
Passion 


The  Son  of  Man  goeth  as  it  is  written  of  Him,  but  woe  unto 
that  man  by  whom  the  Son  of  Alan  is  betrayed !  It  had  been 
good  for  that  man  if  he  had  not  been  born.  Then  Judas  which 
betrayed  Him  answered  and  said,  Master,  is  it  I  ?  He  said 
unto  him,  thou  hast  said. — Matthew  xxvii:  24,  25. 

THE  destiny  of  the  human  race  is  centred 
in  the  agony  of  Gethsemane,  and  the 
tragedy  of  Calvary.  And  of  the  actors  in  that 
awful  drama  few  present  a  more  weird  and 
tragic  character  than  Judas  the  betrayer  of  his 
Master. 

We  are  apt  to  think  of  Judas  as  some  monster 
incarnate,  to  be  spoken  of  with  bated  breath,  as 

3 


4  Judas 

if  he  were  outside  the  pale  of  humanity,  and  not 
to  be  reckoned  in  the  category  of  ordinary  mor- 
tals. And  yet  he  was  a  babe  as  we  all  have 
been ;  he  once  was  fondled  by  a  tender  mother. 
He  had  looked  up  into  her  face  with  innocent 
love.  He  had  grown  up  in  childish  guileless- 
ness,  mingling  with  other  boys,  enjoying  their 
games,  their  interests,  their  studies,  their  joys. 
No  mark  of  Cain  was  branded  on  that  innocent 
forehead  then.  He  grew  up,  we  may  infer  from 
his  after  history,  an  active,  promising,  enthusi- 
astic and  shrewd  young  man. 

Then  one  day  across  the  path  of  the  young 
man  comes  the  Rabbi  of  Galilee,  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth. Crowds  were  following  Him,  attracted 
by  His  miracles,  and  His  teaching.  He — Judas 
— will  join  the  throng,  he  too  will  see  whether 
he  may  not  have  a  share  in  the  glories  of  the 
coming  kingdom  of  which  he  heard  so  much. 
If  he  is  to  gain  any  position  in  the  new  king- 
dom, it  will  not  do  to  hang  on  the  outer  fringe 
of  the  multitude,  he  must  become  more  closely 
attached  to  this  new  prophet  reputed  to  be  the 


Judas  5 

Son  of  David,  the  promised  Messiah.  Already 
this  prophet  is  selecting  His  special  followers 
and  disciples — those  who  are  to  be  His  intimate 
companions — he,  Judas,  must  therefore  belong  to 
this  inner  circle.  He  will  attract  the  teacher  of 
Nazareth  by  displaying  his  eagerness  to  be 
enrolled ;  he  will  offer  his  services,  his  allegiance. 
A  doubtful  tradition  tells  us  that  Judas  is  the 
disciple  who  offered  his  services  to  Jesus,  saying, 
"  Lord,  I  will  follow  Thee  whithersoever  Thou 
goest,"  and  as  if  to  deter  him  Jesus  replied, 
*'  Foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have 
nests,  but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay 
His  head."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  we 
know  that  Judas  Iscariot,  i.  e.,  the  man  of 
Kerioth,  was  enrolled  among  the  Twelve,  that 
inner  body  of  disciples  who  followed  their 
Master  everywhere.  In  this  connection  it  is 
interesting  to  note  that  Judas  is  the  only  one  of 
the  Twelve  who  is  not  a  Galilean,  but  that  he 
comes  from  Judaea. 

As  the  history  of  this  little  band  proceeds,  we 
find  that  Judas  becomes  their  treasurer,  he  bears 


6  Judas 

the  bag.  Doubtless  he  had  shown  some  financial 
efficiency.  His  southern  training  may  have  made 
him  more  prudent.  Perhaps  he  could  make  the 
money  go  farther,  and  last  longer.  Perhaps  he 
was  not  so  generous  to  the  needy  as  any  other 
of  the  disciples  would  be ;  anyhow,  he  must 
have  shown  some  qualifications  for  the  office, 
and  so  is  honored  with  the  trust.  He  was  what 
the  world  might  call  wise,  prudent,  judicious, 
economical. 

At  first  everything  goes  well.  Crowds  flock 
to  the  teacher  of  Nazareth.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  the  hopes  which  urged  Judas  to  join  the 
Galilean  band  will  be  fulfilled.  Miracles  are 
wrought  which  show  that  his  Master  possesses  a 
power  greater  than  any  heretofore  possessed  of 
man.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  people  increases, 
so  that  after  the  feeding  of  the  Five  Thousand, 
the  people  would  take  Jesus  by  force  and  make 
Him  a  king.  This  is  a  crucial  point  in  Christ's 
career.  Now  can  be  fulfilled  His  claims  of 
Messiahship — now  He  can  rule  on  the  throne  of 
David  His  father.     The  tide  of  popularity  is  at 


Judas  7 

its  height.  Let  Him  float  Himself  upon  it 
while  it  is  turning  His  way.  But  strange — 
passing  strange — so  far  from  yielding  to  the 
popular  desire  and  wish,  Jesus  withdraws  Him- 
self. He  refuses  to  be  made  a  king.  What  can 
it  mean  ?  The  people  are  amazed,  dumbfounded. 
Can  it  be  that  after  all  this  Galilean  prophet  is  an 
impostor,  is  no  Messiah,  is  no  Son  of  David,  is 
not  the  promised  king  ?  Jesus  shrinks  now  from 
popular  attempts  to  advance  Him,  retires  more 
and  more  from  public  notice ;  and  soon  the  tide 
which  had  been  running  His  way  turns.  He  is 
doubted  by  the  people,  the  crowds  leave  Him, 
some  of  His  disciples  turn  back  from  following 
Him ;  while  His  enemies,  the  Pharisees,  the  chief 
priests,  and  rulers  become  bolder.  Now  they 
begin  to  plot  against  His  life. 

All  this  change,  this  rising  to  and  waning 
from  popularity  takes  place  before  the  eyes  of 
Judas.  He  had  come  to  join  what  he  thought  a 
successful  political  and  national  movement,  by 
which  he  was  to  be  advanced  to  station  and 
power.     He  had  cast  all  he  had  into  this  cause ; 


8  Judas 

his  means,  his  calling,  his  hopes  of  advancement, 
his  life.  Were  his  hopes,  then,  all  a  delusion  ? 
Was  he  to  be  disappointed?  Was  there  to  be 
no  earthly  kingdom  after  all  ?  He  listens  to  his 
Master's  teaching ;  he  watches  His  actions. 
Alas !  what  a  disenchantment.  He  begins  to 
see  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  quite  differ- 
ent from  what  he  had  expected.  He  has  been 
misled,  deceived.  But  he  will  at  least  try  to  get 
something  out  of  his  connection.  Out  of  the 
wreck  of  fortune  he  will  save  something. 

Notice  how  this  thought,  this  feeling  begins 
to  work.  He  kept  the  bag.  Here  at  least  is 
one  opportunity.  None  know  what  they  have. 
And  now  Judas  begins  to  steal.  We  are  told 
plainly,  he  is  a  thief. 

But  matters  grow  worse.  Instead  of  regaining 
lost  ground  his  Master  seems  to  be  losing.  The 
people — the  mob  so  easily  turned  and  moved, 
worked  upon  and  used  as  an  instrument — is  now 
turning  in  the  direction  of  the  rulers ;  why 
should  not  he  ?  His  disillusionment  and  disap- 
pointment are  complete.     His  stealing  has    be- 


Judas  9 

gun  his  downward  course.  Deterioration  of 
character  sets  in  rapidly.  His  Master  had  in 
many  ways,  at  many  times  by  words  and  acts, 
by  parables,  by  allusions,  tried  to  win  back  this 
disciple  so  fast  losing  his  loyalty  ;  even  at  the 
last  when  it  seemed  hopeless  to  do  anything 
more,  yet  the  Lord  in  that  upper  chamber 
stooped  to  wash  the  feet  of  him  who  was  only 
too  soon  to  betray  Him.  But  all  to  no  effect. 
Satan  had  entered  into  the  heart  of  Judas.  He 
was  now  hopelessly  committed  to  the  enemies 
of  his  Master.  He  could  not  and  would  not  ac- 
cept any  endeavor  to  recall  him  to  allegiance. 
Alas!  Up  from  that  table  where  were  broken 
the  sacred  symbols,  he  rises  to  complete  his 
perfidy,  and  hastens  to  arrange  the  betrayal  of 
his  Master, — and  all  for  the  paltry  pittance  of 
thirty  pieces  of  silver,  for  less  than  ;^20. 

Then  comes  the  awful  scene  of  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane :  when  this  one,  chosen  from  a 
number,  this  one  of  the  Twelve  comes  with 
officers  and  a  band,  and  betrays  his  Master  with 
a  kiss.     Oh  to  think  that  the  token  of  closest 


10  Judas 

love  and  affection  should  be  used  for  the  purpose 
of  the  basest  and  most  shameful  treachery  and 
betrayal. 

But  the  end  is  not  yet.  The  trial  of  Jesus  soon 
convinces  Judas  that  he  has  perpetrated  a  most 
perfidious  crime.  Now  comes  the  awakening, 
the  awakening  to  the  horror  of  his  deed.  Is  it 
too  late  now  for  retrieval  ?  Can  he  undo  his 
crime  ?  What  now  shall  he — Judas — do  ?  Might 
he  seek  Him  whom  he  had  betrayed?  Might 
he  not  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  and  even 
after  his  infamous  treachery  be  forgiven?  He 
might.  But  despair,  remorse  hinder  him,  crush 
him.  Hope  has  withered  in  his  soul.  "  The 
road,  the  streets,  the  people's  faces,  all  seemed 
now  to  bear  witness  against  him,  and  for  Jesus. 
He  read  it  everywhere.  He  felt  it  always ;  he 
imagined  it  till  his  whole  being  was  in  flame. 
What  had  been,  what  was,  what  would  be ! 
Heaven  and  earth  receded  from  him  ;  there  were 
voices  in  the  air,  and  pangs  in  the  soul — and  no 
escape,  help,  counsel,  or  hope  anywhere."  Oh, 
so  terrible  is  remorse  and  despair. 


Judas  1 1 

Now  began  the  dread  lash  of  conscience  so 
long  lulled  to  sleep.  Judas  was  still  a  human 
being,  he  still  had  a  conscience  working  in  him. 
This  he  had  not  bargained  for  when  he  bar- 
gained for  the  money.  And  now  that  he  had 
betrayed  his  Lord,  to  use  the  words  of  Eder- 
sheim  "  that  night  in  Gethsemane  would  never 
more  pass  from  his  soul.  In  the  thickening  and 
encircling  gloom  all  around,  he  must  have  ever 
seen  only  the  torchlight  glare  as  it  fell  on  the 
pallid  face  of  the  Divine  Sufferer.  In  the  ter- 
rible stillness  of  the  storm  he  must  have  ever 
heard  only  these  words — '  Judas  !  betrayest  thou 
the  Son  of  Man  with  a  kiss  ? '  He  did  not  hate 
Jesus  then — he  hated  nothing,  he  hated  every- 
thing. He  was  utterly  desolate  as  the  storm  of 
despair  swept  over  his  disenchanted  soul,  and 
swept  him  before  it.  No  one  in  heaven  or  on 
earth  to  appeal  to;  no  one — angel  or  man,  to 
stand  by  him  !  He  must  get  rid  of  those  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  which  like  thirty  serpents  coiled 
around  his  soul  with  terrible  hissing  of  death. 
Then  at  least  his  deed  would  have  nothing  of 


1 2  Judas 

the  selfish  in  it;  only  a  terrible  error,  a  mistake 
to  which  he  had  been  incited  by  these  San- 
hedrists.  Back  to  them  with  the  money,  and  let 
them  have  it  again  ! 

"  And  so  forward  he  pressed  amid  the  wonder- 
ing crowd,  which  would  give  way  before  that 
haggard  face  with  the  wild  eyes  that  crime  had 
made  old  in  those  few  hours,  till  he  came  upon 
that  knot  of  priests  and  Sanhedrists,  perhaps 
at  that  very  moment  speaking  of  it  all.  Not  even 
the  priests  who  had  paid  him  the  price  of  blood 
would  have  aught  of  him,  as  with  hoarse  cry  he 
sobbed — *  I  have  sinned  in  that  I  have  betrayed 
innocent  blood ! '  They  turned  from  him  with 
impatience,  and  in  contempt  reply, '  What  is  that 
to  us,  see  thou  to  it ! '  Thus  they  sent  him 
reehng  back  into  his  darkness.  For  a  moment 
he  stared  wildly  before  him,  the  very  thirty 
pieces  of  silver  still  clutched  in  his  hand.  For  a 
moment  only,  and  then  he  wildly  rushed  forward 
towards  the  sanctuary  itself,  he  bent  forward, 
and  with  all  his  might  hurled  from  him  those 
thirty  pieces  of  silver,  so  that  each  resounded  as 


Jiidas  1 3 

it  fell  on  the  marble  pavement.  Then  out  he 
rushed  from  the  Temple,  out  of  Jerusalem  into 
solitude  !  Whither  shall  it  be  ?  Down  into  the 
horrible  solitude  of  the  valley  of  Hinnom,  the 
Tophet  of  old,  with  its  ghastly  memories,  with 
its  ghostly  associations.  But  it  was  not  solitude, 
for  it  seemed  now  peopled  with  figures,  faces, 
sounds.  Across  the  valley,  and  up  the  steep 
sides  of  the  mountain !  Here  jagged  rocks 
rise  perpendicularly;  perhaps  there  was  some 
gnarled,  bent,  stunted  tree.  Up  there  he  climbed 
to  the  top  of  that  rock.  Now  slowly  and  de- 
liberately he  unwound  the  long  girdle  that  held 
his  garment.  It  was  the  girdle  in  which  he  had 
carried  those  thirty  pieces  of  silver.  He  was 
now  quite  calm  and  collected.  With  that  girdle 
he  will  hang  himself  on  that  tree  close  by,  and 
when  he  has  fastened  it,  he  will  throw  himself 
off  from  that  jagged  rock.  It  is  done.  .  .  . 
And  now  he  is  going  deeper,  farther  out  into  the 
night — to  its  farthest  bounds,  where  rises  and 
falls  the  dark  flood  of  death.  The  wild  howl  of 
the  storm  has  lashed  the  dark  waters  into  fury ; 


14  Judas 

they  toss  and  break  in  wild  billows  at  his  feet. 
One  narrow  rift  in  the  cloud-curtain  overhead, 
and  in  the  pale  deathlike  light  lies  the  figure  of 
the  Christ,  so  calm,  so  placid,  untouched  and 
unharmed  on  the  storm-tossed  waters,  as  it  had 
been  that  night  lying  on  the  lake  of  Galilee  when 
Judas  had  seen  Him  come  to  them  over  the 
surging  billows,  and  then  bid  them  be  at  peace. 
Peace!  What  peace  to  him  now — in  earth  or 
heaven  ?  It  was  the  same  Christ,  but  thorn- 
crowned,  with  nail-prints  in  His  hands  and  feet. 
And  this  Judas  had  done  to  the  Master !  Only 
for  one  moment  did  it  seem  to  He  there ;  then  it 
was  sucked  up  by  the  dark  waters  beneath. 
Again  the  cloud-curtain  is  drawn  up ;  the  dark- 
ness is  thicker,  and  the  storm  wilder  than  be- 
fore. Out  into  that  darkness,  with  one  wild 
plunge — there,  where  the  figure  of  the  dead 
Christ  had  lain  on  the  waters  !  And  the  dark 
waters  have  closed  around  him  in  eternal 
silence."  Judas — the  thief,  the  traitor,  the  sui- 
cide, the  deicide. 

What  an  end  to  what  a  career  !     Unparalleled 


Judas  1 5 

in  the  history  of  man,  impossible,  we  think,  of 
repetition.  Is  this  so  ?  May  there  be  no  repeti- 
tion ?  What  then  mean  those  words  of  scripture 
in  which  the  sacred  writer  warns  us  of  those  who 
"  crucify  to  themselves  the  Son  of  God  afresh 
and  put  Him  to  an  open  shame  "  ? 

We  think  then  of  Judas  as  a  monster  of  in- 
iquity, who  committed  a  deed  that  can  never  be 
repeated.     Is  this  true?     Are  we  so  sure? 

Consider  the  character  of  Judas,  and  see 
whether  after  all  it  is  so  different  from  what  it  is 
possible  for  any  of  us  to  become  or  to  be.  There 
was  nothing  to  distinguish  Judas  from  the  rest 
of  the  disciples  until  the  last  deadly  act  of  be- 
trayal was  accomplished.  Before  that  he  was  to 
all  appearances  the  same  as  his  companions.  In 
fact  from  his  position  as  the  almoner  and  treas- 
urer of  the  little  band,  we  might  infer  that  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world  he  was  a  little  superior  to 
the  rest  of  his  associates.  Doubtless  Judas  had 
a  reputation  as  a  financier,  a  reputation  no  doubt 
of  value  in  the  first  as  in  the  twentieth  century. 
He  v/as  not  easily  moved  to  generous  feeling  by 


1 6  Judas 

any  act  of  supreme  devotion.  When  Mary  of 
Bethany  anointed  the  Saviour  with  that  precious 
ointment  costing  about  three  hundred  pence,  Judas 
exclaims  against  this  waste.  He  was  indignant  at 
this  seemingly  useless  extravagance.  No.  To  all 
outward  appearances  if  you  and  I  had  met  Judas 
before  the  betrayal,  while  he  still  possessed  the 
confidence  of  his  associates,  we  might  have  es- 
teemed him  higher  than  some  of  his  companions. 
He  might  have  seemed  to  us  less  boorish,  more 
businesslike,  more  a  man  of  the  world  than  the 
Galilean  fishermen.  If  we  had  to  make  a  choice 
from  that  band  of  disciples  for  some  important 
position  of  trust,  in  which  ability,  sagacity, 
prudence,  wisdom  were  required,  we  might  have 
chosen  him  in  preference  to  any  of  his  fellow- 
disciples. 

Then,  too,  we  may  be  sure  that  at  first  there 
must  have  been  some  germ  of  good  in  him, 
otherwise  he  would  not  have  been  willing  to  fol- 
low this  new  and  unknown  teacher  of  Nazareth. 
To  be  sure  there  was  mixed  up  in  this  attach- 
ment and  following  some  idea  of   self-advanc- 


Judas  1 7 

ment  and  political  preferment.  But  did  not  the 
other  eleven  also  expect  this  ?  Did  they  not  all 
of  them  frequently  dispute  as  to  who  should  be 
greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  Had  not 
the  mother  of  James  and  John,  the  sons  of 
Zebedee,  solicited  the  highest  station  of  honor  for 
her  sons  ?  Wherein  was  Judas  more  ambitious 
than  the  others  ?  If  we  regard  Judas  at  his  first 
following  of  Jesus  he  was  not  abnormal  in  char- 
acter at  all.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
different  from  the  eleven.  We  are  too  much  in 
the  habit  of  judging  his  character  not  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  career,  but  at  its  end :  not  as  he 
was  when  first  he  joined  the  Galilean  prophet,  but 
as  the  base  traitor  and  betrayer  of  his  Master  and 
Friend.  And  so  we  think  him  a  monster  of  in- 
iquity, an  incarnate  demon.  In  fact  we  are  apt 
to  consider  all  the  apostles  as  somehow  different 
from  ourselves,  and  when  they  deny  their  Lord 
or  betray  Him  we  consider  the  crime  enormous. 
We  say  to  ourselves,  "  Had  we  been  in  their 
place  we  never  would  have  been  guilty  as  were 
Peter  and  Judas ;  we  would  not  have  betrayed, 


1 8  Judas 

deserted,  denied  our  Master  in  the  hour  of  His 
loneliness  and  need." 

But  crimes  are  committed  only  after  deterio- 
ration of  character,  and  deterioration  is  so  gradual, 
often  so  unobserved,  or  if  observed  v^e  excuse  or 
justify  our  word  or  conduct,  and  before  we  know 
it,  we  are  doing  what  we  would  have  shuddered 
at,  if  any  one  had  told  us  we  should  one  day  do 
it.  Do  you  suppose  if  Judas  had  been  told 
when  first  he  joined  Jesus  of  Nazareth  that  he 
would  one  day  basely  betray  Him,  that  he  would 
have  believed  it  ?  Nay.  He  would  have  repudi- 
ated the  thought,  he  w^ould  have  spurned  the 
suggestion,  he  would  have  resented  it  as  an  in- 
sult. 

The  treachery  of  betrayal  is  a  most  damning 
sin,  and  yet  do  you  think  that  those  who  in  his- 
tory stand  out  as  the  great  traitors,  whether  to 
country  or  friend,  do  you  think  they  originally 
believed  betrayal  on  their  part  possible?  Ask 
Themistocles  at  Salamis  when  he  saved  Greece 
from  the  Persian  King  Xerxes,  whether  it  was  pos- 
sible he  would  ever  betray  his  country  to  Persia  ? 


Judas  19 

Would  he  not  have  resented  the  imputation  with 
indignation,  and  yet  did  not  Themistocles  even- 
tually betray  his  country  ?  Ask  Benedict  Arnold 
at  Quebec  or  Saratoga,  where  he  fought  so 
valiantly  for  these  colonies  struggling  for  inde- 
pendence against  the  British  crown,  w^hen  his 
patriotism  and  loyalty  were  unquestioned  and 
untainted,  whether  he  would  ever  betray  his 
country,  and  yet  he  stands  to-day  impeached  be- 
fore the  world  as  one  of  the  most  infamous  of 
traitors.  Were  either  of  these  men  so  abnormal 
in  character  at  first?  If  they  had  any  distin- 
guishing trait  was  it  not  the  possession  of  un- 
common and  extraordinary  ability  ? 

Brethren,  there  is  nothing  strange  and  nothing 
impossible  in  this  world,  and  the  conduct  and 
career  of  Judas  are  practically  repeated  to-day 
by  many  and  by  all  who  have  betrayed  their 
Christian  faith ;  who  having  put  their  hand  to 
the  plough  have  turned  back ;  who  dazzled  by 
worldly  advantages  have  given  up  the  service  of 
Christ;  who  because  the  world  so  persistently 
shouts  that  Christianity  is  a  failure  are  discour- 


20  Judas 

aged  and  turn  back  from  following  Christ ;  who 
as  disciples  of  the  Crucified  would  be  "  Christians 
without  the  cross." 

Knowing  what  you  do  of  life,  and  looking  it 
may  be  into  your  own  experience,  brethren,  dare 
you  say  the  infamous  deed  of  Judas  is  unpar- 
alleled, that  it  can  never  be  repeated;  or  is  it 
not  true  that  his  tragic  deed  and  life  find  their 
counterpart  in  many  a  Christian  life  to-day; 
that  the  betrayer  in  all  his  enormity  stands  re- 
vealed as  a  witness  not  only  of  what  we  can 
become,  but  of  what  we  may  become  ?  His  his- 
tory lives  to  warn  us  how  discipleship  is  no 
safeguard  against  betrayal,  how  intimate  com- 
munion does  not  debar  disloyalty,  how  even 
tender  affection  is  not  proof  against  blackest 
treachery.  How  terrible  the  possibility,  how 
tragic  the  probability ! 

Ah !  Brethren,  as  we  read  or  hear  read  the 
words  of  the  suffering  Saviour  who  with  bleeding 
heart,  and  aching  voice  comes  into  our  life  say- 
ing with  bitterness  of  soul,  "  Verily  I  say  unto 
you,  that  one  of  you  shall  betray  Me,"  let  us  re- 


Judas  21 

member  Judas  and  his  awful  and  guilty  career, 
then  let  us  ask  with  serious  and  sad  solemnity, 
and  with  deep  searching  of  heart,  "  Lord,  is 
it  I?" 


II 

Peter 


II 

Jpaer 

And  the  Lord  turned  and  looked  upon  Peter.  And  Peter 
remembered  the  word  of  the  Lord,  how  He  had  said  unto  him, 
Before  the  cock  crow,  thou  shalt  deny  Me  thrice.  And  Peter 
went  out  and  wept  bitterly. — Luke  xxii :  6 1,  62. 

WHEN  we  meditate  upon  the  Passion  of 
our  Lord — the  intensity  of  His  agony, 
and  the  bitterness  of  the  cross — we  must  surely 
reaHze  that  its  anguish  was  deepened  by  the 
betrayal  of  one  disciple,  and  the  denial  of  an- 
other, that  in  the  supreme  moment  of  trial, 
Jesus  was  abandoned  by  His  chosen  disciples 
whom  for  three  years  he  had  been  training  by 
most  intimate  communion  and  private  inter- 
course. How  bitter,  yea  heartrending  must  it 
have  been  to  have  the  great  betrayal  followed  by 
the  great  denial.  Judas  betrays  his  Master  with 
a  kiss,  and  Peter  denies  Him  with  an  oath.     Can 

25 


26  Peter 

failure  be  more  complete  ?  Can  discipleship  be 
more  ignominious  ? 

Yet  Peter  was  sure  he  would  not  deny  his 
Lord.  We  remember  how  again  and  again 
when  told  by  the  Saviour  that  he  would  deny 
Him,  Peter  replies  with  vehemence  that  though 
he  should  die  with  his  Master,  yet  would  he 
never  deny  Him.  And  he  meant  it.  His  zeal 
and  attachment  in  the  past  led  Peter  to  believe 
he  could  and  would  do  as  he  said.  All  his 
feelings  had  been  aroused  by  the  thought  that 
one  of  them  should  betray  his  Lord.  What  a 
dastardly  deed !  How  base  and  treacherous  ! 
Need  we  be  surprised  that  the  bare  thought  of 
such  treachery  aroused  indignation  in  the 
apostle's  breast,  that  it  stirred  up  the  heroic  in 
his  nature,  kindled  his  zeal  and  courage,  and 
urged  him  to  give  voice  to  his  emotion,  "  though 
I  should  die  with  Thee,  yet  will  I  never  deny 
Thee." 

Impulsive,  warm  hearted,  forward,  and  enthu- 
siastic Peter  gave  little  thought  before  he  spoke. 
He  seldom  measured  his  speech,  or  guaged  his 


Peter  27 

own  capacity,  but  from  the  fulness  of  his  heart 
he  gave  utterance  to  his  feeHngs.  Peter  was 
intensely  human.  We  can  imagine  how  he 
must  have  hated  baseness  and  treachery,  how  his 
whole  soul  must  have  revolted  against  the 
thought  that  any  one  of  the  twelve  could  be 
disloyal  to  his  Master.  In  character  Peter  was 
practical  rather  than  contemplative,  eager  for 
action,  and  disincHned  to  meditation.  His 
energy  was  restive  to  find  vent  in  expression. 
He  was  quick  in  decision,  and  also  in  execution, 
but  his  judgment  was  not  always  right.  "  He 
was  easily  misled  by  a  rash  self-confidence  to 
say  more  and  to  venture  more  than  he  could  ac- 
complish, and  though  he  quickly  and  ardently 
seized  on  an  object,  he  allowed  himself  too 
easily  to  relinquish  it,  by  yielding  to  the  force  of 
another  impression."  This  impulsiveness  was 
manifested  when,  seeing  the  Saviour  walking  on 
the  water,  he  asked  if  he  might  not  do  the  same, 
and  when  bidden  to  come,  and  the  waves  began 
to  rise,  his  fear  overcame  him,  and  he  cried 
**  Save,  Lord,  I  perish  !  "     So  again  in  that  upper 


28  Peter 

room  at  the  last  supper,  when  the  Master  in 
wondrous  humiHty  girded  Himself  with  a  towel 
and  took  a  basin  and  water  to  wash  His  dis- 
ciples' feet,  it  is  Peter  who  says  "  Lord,  dost 
Thou  wash  my  feet  ?  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  never 
wash  my  feet."  But  notice  how  quickly  he 
recedes  from  this  attitude  when  told,  "  If  I 
wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part  with  Me." 
Then  Peter  saith,  *'  Lord,  not  my  feet  only,  but 
also  my  hands  and  my  head."  As  eager  now 
for  washing,  as  before  in  refusing. 

In  this  impulsiveness  we  see  a  tendency  to 
rash  boldness  which  when  trial  or  temptation 
comes,  shrinks  and  fails.  When  excess  of  feel- 
ing has  been  manifested  without  commensurate 
inward  strength,  then  it  is  that  the  unexpected 
happens.  Peter  was  certainly  sincere  in  his 
strong  asseverations  of  attachment.  He  honestly 
believed  his  own  words  when  he  professed  that 
he  was  willing  to  die  with  his  Master.  But  a 
crisis  is  often  a  revelation  of  weakness  as  well  as 
of  strength.  It  reveals  at  times  phases  of 
character  that  were  never  suspected.     Misfortune 


Peter  29 

and  danger  often  disclose  tendencies  and  defects 
that  never  showed  themselves  when  one  was 
happy  and  prosperous.  Such  instances  must 
have  come  into  your  experience.  Some  of  your 
friends  and  acquaintances  must  have  by  their  con- 
duct in  critical  situations  surprised  you,  have  per- 
haps utterly  disappointed  or  deceived  you,  as  well 
as  at  times  confirmed  your  confidence  in  them. 

"  Though  I  should  die  with  Thee,  yet  will  I 
never  deny  Thee."  These  are  brave  words,  how 
are  they  justified  ?  Follow  Peter  into  the  court- 
yard of  the  high  priest's  palace.  See  him  as  he 
stands  there  warming  himself  by  the  fire  of  coals. 
He  seems  to  be  a  stranger,  and  so  one  of  the 
maids  with  critical  eye  examines  him,  and  as  she 
gazes  suddenly  she  exclaims,  **  And  thou  also 
wast  with  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  And  what  re- 
plies Peter  ?  He  denied  saying,  "  I  know  not, 
neither  understand  I  what  thou  sayest."  Mean- 
while his  Master  is  but  a  short  distance  away 
falsely  accused,  powerless  in  the  hands  of  His 
malignant  enemies, — that  Master  for  whom  he 
had  professed  attachment  unto  death.     Uneasy 


30  Peter 

man  that  he  is  because  of  his  cowardice  Peter 
moves  out  into  the  porch  where  he  is  less  hkely 
to  be  questioned,  "  and  the  cock  crew."  Omi- 
nous sound,  does  it  not  call  to  mind  the 
Saviour's  words :  **  Before  the  cock  crow  twice, 
thou  shalt  deny  Me  thrice."  Alas !  Retreat 
seems  impossible.  For  "  a  maid  saw  him  again, 
and  began  to  say  to  them  that  stood  by — this  is 
one  of  them,  and  he  denied  it  again."  And  still 
his  Master  was  on  His  trial,  and  already  the  in- 
sults to  His  person  had  begun.  And  a  httle 
after,  i.  e.y  about  an  hour  after,  while  Peter  anx- 
ious to  go,  yet  as  a  victim  fascinated  and  fastened, 
moved  about  uneasy,  and  restless,  •'  they  that 
stood  by  said  again  to  Peter,  surely  thou  art  one 
of  them,  for  thou  art  a  Galilean,  and  thy  speech 
agreeth  thereto.  But  he  began  to  curse  and  to 
swear  saying  I  know  not  this  man  of  whom  ye 
speak.  And  the  second  time  the  cock  crew." 
Oh,  what  a  base  and  dastardly  denial.  The 
shrill  crow  had  scarcely  ceased  when  Peter  re- 
membered the  words  "  before  the  cock  crow 
twice,  thou  shalt  deny  Me  thrice."     Yet  only  a 


Peter  31 

few  hours  before  he  had  declared  his  willingness 
to  die  with  his  Lord.  How  shamefully  had  he 
failed ;  how  wretchedly  his  boasted  courage  had 
vanished.  Could  he  but  get  away,  away  from 
this  scene  of  denial  and  blasphemy.  And  just  at 
this  moment  while  yet  the  oath  had  scarcely 
died  from  his  lips,  the  oath  uttered  with  such 
vehemence  that  probably  it  reached  even  to  his 
Master's  ears,  the  recreant  disciple  looked  up, 
and  as  he  looked  up  "  the  Lord  turned  and 
looked  upon  Peter  "  ;  yes,  just  at  that  moment  in 
the  midst  of  his  own  trial,  of  his  shameful  and 
brutal  treatment,  the  Lord  turned  round  and 
looked  upon  him — yes  in  all  that  assembly — 
upon  Peter — "  a  glance  full  we  must  believe  of 
tenderest  pity,  and  deepest  sadness  as  of  one 
who  was  moved  not  by  anger  but  by  sorrow." 
"  His  eyes  spake  His  words,  nay  much  more, 
they  searched  down  to  the  innermost  depths  of 
Peter's  heart,  and  broke  them  open.  They  had 
pierced  through  all  self-delusion,  false  shame,  and 
fear ;  they  had  reached  the  man,  the  disciple,  the 
lover  of  Jesus.     Forth  they  burst,  the  waters   of 


32  Peter 

conviction,  of  true  shame,  of  heart  sorrow,  of  the 
agonies  of  self-condemnation."  Out  into  the 
night  he  rushed,  out  from  that  scene  of  denial 
and  shameful  blasphemy,  out  into  the  darkness, 
weeping  bitterly.  Could  he  ever  forget  that 
look,  so  pitiful,  so  reproachful,  so  sorrowful ! 
That  look  must  have  burnt  itself  into  his  heart 
and  soul,  never  more  to  be  the  same,  never  more 
to  be  free  from  that  compassionate  gaze. 

"  The  Saviour  looked  on  Peter.  Ay,  no  word — 
No  gesture  of  reproach  !  The  heavens  serene 
Though  heavy  with  armed  justice,  did  not  lean 
Their  thunders  that  way.  The  forsaken  Lord 
Looked  only,  on  the  traitor.  None  record 
What  that  look  was ;  none  guess ;  for  those  who  have 

seen 
Wronged  lovers  loving  through  a  death  pang  keen, 
Or  pale-cheeked  martyrs  smiling  to  a  sword, 
Have  missed  Jehovah  at  the  judgment-call, 
And  Peter  from  the  height  of  blasphemy — 

•  I  never  knew  this  man  '  did  quail  and  fall, 

As  knowing  straight  that  God, — and  turned  free 
And  went  out  speechless  from  the  face  of  all, 
And  filled  the  silence  weeping  bitterly. 

"  I  think  that  look  of  Christ  might  seem  to  say — 

*  Thou  Peter !  art  thou  then  a  common  stone 
Which  I  at  last  must  break  My  heart  upon, 
For  all  God's  charge  to  His  high  angels  may 


Peter  33 

Guard  My  foot  better  ?     Did  I  yesterday 

Wash  thy  feet,  My  beloved,  that  they  should  run 

Quick  to  deny  Me  'neath  the  morning  sun  ? 

And  do  thy  kisses,  like  the  rest,  betray  ? 

The  cock  crows  coldly. — Go,  and  manifest 

A  late  contrition,  but  no  bootless  fear ! 

For  when  thy  final  need  is  dreariest, 

Thou  shalt  not  be  denied,  as  I  am  here. 

My  voice,  to  God  and  angels,  shall  attest, 

Because  Iki^ow  this  man,  let  hint  be  clear. ^  " 


How  shall  we  account  for  Peter's  conduct? 
Had  his  character  completely  changed,  or  is  it, 
that  not  until  now  have  certain  defects  been 
brought  to  light,  become  prominent  in  being 
tried  and  tested.  Character  is  not  made  or  un- 
made by  a  single  act,  though  it  may  reveal  itself 
in  some  supreme  act.  How  then  shall  we  ex- 
plain Peter's  denial?  It  can  only  be  done  by 
showing  that  there  were  certain  radically  weak 
elements  of  character  that  now  had  a  chance  to 
show  themselves. 

First  we  know  that  Peter  had  always  shown 
confidence  in  himself.  He  had  displayed  self- 
assurance,  there  was  a  certain  strain  of  vainglory 
and  boastfulness  in  his  nature.     But  his  self-reli- 


34  Peter 

ance  and  confidence  had  not  taken  into  account 
a  set  of  circumstances  in  which  moral  courage 
would  be  needed  even  more  than  physical  cour- 
age. It  was  here  that  Peter  failed.  Moral  courage 
was  weak  in  him.  Even  in  later  years  at  Antioch 
he  fell  because  of  this  same  lack  of  moral  cour- 
age, when  having  lived  with  Gentiles  as  a  Gentile, 
he  withdrew  from  association  with  them  upon 
being  charged  with  it  by  certain  Jews.  In  the 
apostle's  nature  there  was  a  wish  to  be  well 
thought  of  by  men.  He  desired  popularity. 
When  approved  by  general  sentiment,  he  could 
display  great  courage  and  leadership,  but  if  he 
was  on  what  might  be  considered  the  unpopular, 
the  weaker,  or  losing  side,  then  his  courage 
failed. 

Closely  connected  with  lack  of  moral  courage 
is  the  sense  of  shame.  Peter  was  now  doubtless 
ashamed  to  be  connected  with  a  man  who  was  a 
prisoner,  whose  claims  were  repudiated ;  with  a 
cause  that  now  seemed  to  be  declining,  despised, 
ridiculed.  How  could  he  acknowledge  himself  a 
disciple  of  that  lone  Man  standing  helpless  and 


Peter  35 

friendless  before  the  high  priest  and  Sanhedrin, 
— that  lonely  Man  already  betrayed  by  one  of  His 
disciples,  and  abandoned  by  the  others, — and  now 
as  He  stood  before  the  rulers  was  insulted,  buf- 
feted, and  spit  upon  by  the  malicious  and  cruel 
servants.  To  ally  ourselves  with  what  is  de- 
spised, contemptuous !  No !  We  must  by  all 
means  avoid  this  !  Ridicule,  contempt,  and  fear 
of  what  the  world  will  think  have  overthrown 
more  disciples  of  Christ  than  force  or  threats. 

Then,  again,  Peter  might  have  asked  himself, 
"  What  good  will  it  do  me  to  acknowledge  al- 
legiance now  ?  Everything  points  to  its  useless- 
ness.  All  the  hopes  I  had  of  the  restoration  of 
the  kingdom  to  Israel  are  shattered.  Jesus,  my 
Master,  He  who  filled  me  with  these  vain  hopes 
— is  now  seized  and  already  condemned.  What 
can  I  do  to  help  Him — I  alone  !  Why  don't  the 
others  stand  by  Him  ?  If  the  other  ten  would, 
then  I  would.  But  why  should  the  test  of  loy- 
alty be  laid  wholly  upon  me  ?  I  am  no  more  re- 
sponsible for  allegiance  than  they  are.  If  they 
have  deserted,  I  have  the  right  to  deny.     I  can 


36  Peter 

do  no  good  alone."  Furthermore  he  might  have 
said,  "  What  right  have  I  to  be  questioned  or  be 
asked?  These  servants,  these  women  have  no 
right  to  inquire  into  my  affairs,  my  beHefSj  my 
rehgious  attachments.  It  is  none  of  their  busi- 
ness. I  have  a  perfect  right  to  refuse  to  tell  them 
the  truth ;  they  are  not  entitled  to  it.  Confes- 
sion will  not  help  my  Master,  and  it  will  ruin 
me."  And  so  in  the  face  of  the  strong,  and  seem- 
ingly irresistible  opposition ;  influenced  also  by 
plausible  self-reasoning,  he  gives  way,  he  makes 
up  his  mind  he  will  not  confess.  He  denies  his 
Lord,  and  at  last  he  denies  Him  with  an  oath. 

Then,  too,  we  may  believe  that  there  was  also 
some  fear  for  his  own  safety  and  life.  We  may 
be  ever  so  brave,  yet  the  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion may  often  in  a  crisis,  or  unexpected  emer- 
gency rob  us  of  reason  and  honor,  make  us  most 
cowardly,  strip  us  of  our  courage,  make  us  do 
anything  to  save  ourselves.  What  will  not  peo- 
ple do  in  a  panic,  when  a  theatre  is  on  fire,  or 
when  a  vessel  is  sinking  in  mid  ocean  ?  Indeed 
we  seldom  know  what  we  w^ould  do,  how  we 


Peter  yj 

would  act  when  we  stand  face  to  face  with  immi- 
nent death.  Strength  of  attachment  fails  at  times 
to  rise  above  the  stronger  force  of  fear.  It  was 
such  a  crisis  that  confronted  Peter.  His  life 
seemed  to  be  at  stake.  How  easy  to  save  it  with 
a  lie  and  oath  that  could  neither  save  nor  hurt 
his  Master.  And  just  then  the  cock  crew,  and 
the  Lord  turned  and  looked  on  Peter. 

What  memories  it  awoke,  what  shame  it 
aroused.  Whether  true  or  not,  there  is  a  tradi- 
tion that  for  nearly  forty  years  even  until  Peter 
was  himself  crucified  as  his  Lord,  the  remem- 
brance of  this  night  of  denial  never  left  the  apostle, 
but  that  in  penitence,  "  morning  by  morning  he 
rose  at  the  hour  when  the  look  of  his  Master  en- 
tered into  his  soul,  to  pray  once  more  for 
pardon." 

This  pardon  we  know  was  granted.  The  base 
denial  was  pardoned  by  full  restoration.  It  was 
by  the  lake-side  where  Peter's  untroubled  life 
had  been  spent,  ere  yet  the  eventful  call  came, 
"  Follow  Me."  Yes,  it  was  by  that  lake-side, 
after  the  shameful  crucifixion,  after  the  glorious 


38  Peter 

resurrection  that  the  Saviour  appeared  to  seven 
of  His  disciples,  among  them  Peter.  They  had 
been  fishing  all  night  and  caught  nothing,  and 
now  at  daybreak  a  form  appears  on  the  shore,  a 
voice  is  heard,  and  the  stranger  after  learning  of 
their  ill-success  says,  "  Cast  the  net  on  the  right 
side  of  the  ship  and  ye  shall  find."  And  once 
again  as  in  the  days  of  their  early  discipleship 
the  net  is  filled  to  breaking.  It  is  no  stranger 
that  has  spoken,  it  is  the  Lord.  When  they 
come  to  land  they  see  a  fire  of  coals  and  fish  laid 
thereon  and  bread.  They  are  invited  to  dine. 
After  dining — still  seated  by  the  fire  of  coals,  a 
fire  which  for  Peter  could  only  evoke  sad  remi- 
niscence, and  arouse  deep  feelings  of  shame  and 
penitence — for  it  was  by  such  a  fire  of  coals 
only  a  few  weeks  before  that  he  had  denied  his 
Lord, — the  Saviour,  with  thrice  repeated  ques- 
tion to  correspond  to  the  threefold  denial  asks 
Peter,  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonah,  lovest  thou  Me?" 
"  Peter  understood  it  all.  No  longer  with  confi- 
dence in  self,  and  avoiding  the  former  reference 
to    others   he   replied   appealing   rather  to   his 


Peter  39 

Lord's  than  to  his  own  consciousness,  *Yea! 
Lord,  Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee.'  .  .  . 
Yes,  Peter  did  love  the  Lord  Jesus.  He  had 
loved  Him  when  he  said  it  only  too  confident  in 
the  strength  of  his  feehngs  that  he  would  follow 
his  Master  even  unto  death.  Jesus  saw  it  all, 
yea,  and  how  the  love  of  the  ardent  tempera- 
ment which  had  once  made  him  rove  at  wild 
liberty,  would  give  place  to  patient  work  of  love 
and  be  crowned  with  martyrdom."  The  denial 
of  the  past  was  forgiven,  and  genuine  peni- 
tence was  shown  by  a  life  of  devotion  even 
unto  death. 

If  tradition  may  be  trusted  the  end  came  at 
Rome  during  the  Neronian  persecution.  At  the 
urgent  request  of  the  Christians  there,  the  apostle 
was  prevailed  upon  to  flee  the  city  for  his  safety. 
At  night  he  leaves,  but  ere  he  had  reached  the 
city  gates  he  sees — strange  sight — his  Lord  com- 
ing to  meet  him.  The  apostle  impulsively,  as  of 
old,  questions,  "  Doniuie^  quo  vadis  ?  Lord, 
whither  goest  Thou  ?  "  to  which  the  Lord  replies, 
"  I  go  to  be  crucified  again."     The  apostle  rec- 


40  Peter 

ognizes  the  rebuke,  and  turns  back  into  the  city 
to  endure  the  crucifixion  he  would  escape. 

And  are  there  no  Peters  to-day;  no  denials 
like  his  ?  Have  we  none  of  us  done  as  he  did  ? 
Denied  our  Lord  by  being  ashamed  of  Him; 
ashamed  of  our  religion  ;  held  back  from  ac- 
knowledging Him ;  kept  silent  when  our  rehgion 
was  attacked  or  ridiculed,  and  our  Master  put  on 
His  trial  once  again  by  the  mocking  of  skeptics, 
disbelievers,  revilers  ?  Do  we  not  at  times  when 
in  certain  company  or  places  ask,  what  use  to 
confess  discipleship,  i.  e.,  act,  speak,  live  as  a 
Christian  ?  To  do  so  will  subject  us  to  ridicule, 
scorn,  contempt,  perhaps  loss  of  position,  or  of 
advantages,  or  of  some  prize — social  or  financial. 
To  confess  will  not  do  Christ  any  good ;  it  will 
injure  us.  Yes  we  say,  <*  It  is  better  not  to  con- 
fess, for  then  we  shall  not  cause  ridicule  to  be 
brought  upon  our  religion,  and  our  Christ."  We 
try  to  deceive  ourselves  that  we  really  have  the 
cause  of  Christ  at  heart,  and  perhaps  in  justifica- 
tion of  our  silence  repeat  the  Saviour's  words, 
"  Give   not  that   which  is  holy  unto  the  dogs. 


Peter  41 

neither  cast  ye  your  pearls  before  swine."  We 
say — "  this  is  a  time  to  keep  silent.  Do  as  the 
rest.  Aye,  when  challenged — deny."  Do  you 
not  then  hear  the  cock  crow?  Oh  man,  oh 
woman,  is  it  not  the  same  denial  as  of  old  ? 
Was  the  apostle  so  very  dastardly  after  all  ?  Do 
we  say  his  conduct  was  unpardonable  ?  Do  we 
think  we  would  not  have  acted  as  he  acted  ?  Let 
us  cast  our  minds  over  our  own  lives,  and  notice 
the  times  we  have  been  ashamed  of  our  religious 
convictions,  been  ashamed  to  pray,  to  worship 
God,  to  acknowledge  Him  whether  at  home,  or 
in  some  public  place,  and  will  it  be  only  thrice 
that  we  have  thus  denied  our  Lord,  or  will  it  not 
be  more  frequently  than  we  can  count  ? 

Happy  indeed  if  in  our  denial  the  Lord  in 
mercy  and  love  turn  and  look  upon  us  with  His 
pitying  and  forgiving  eye,  and  bring  us  back  to 
penitence  and  fidelity. 

Disciples  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ! — do  you  never 
hear  the  cock  crow  in  your  lives  ? 


Ill 

Caiaphas 


Ill 

€aiapl)a0 

And  one  of  them  named  Caiaphas  being  the  high  priest  that 
same  year  said  unto  them,  Ye  know  nothing  at  all,  nor  con- 
sider that  it  is  expedient  for  us,  that  one  man  should  die  for  the 
people,  and  that  the  whole  nation  perish  not. — John  xi :  49,  50. 

SO  spake  the  High  Priest  Caiaphas, — bold, 
unscrupulous,  clear-sighted  and  ambitious 
— in  that  preHminary  council  which  planned 
definitely  to  apprehend  Jesus.  This  council  met 
soon  after  Lazarus  had  been  raised  from  the  dead 
— a  notable  miracle  which  could  not  be  concealed, 
and  none  deny.  The  fame  of  it  spread  through- 
out all  Judaea,  and  in  consequence  of  it  many 
of  the  Jews  believed.  The  question  the 
ecclesiastical  rulers  now  found  themselves  con- 
fronted with  was,  what  were  they  to  do  in  regard 
to  the  claims  of  this  teacher  of  Nazareth  ?  The 
people  would  naturally  look  to  see  what  attitude 

45 


46  CaiapJias 

their  religious  leaders,  teachers,  and  rulers — the 
high  priest,  the  Sanhedrin,  the  scribes,  and 
elders — would  take.  They  were  versed  in  the 
law ;  they  understood  the  prophesies  ;  they  were 
the  natural  persons  to  direct  religious  teaching, 
and  to  formulate  doctrinal  beliefs.  To  these  rep- 
resentatives of  religion  the  people  instinctively 
looked  for  guidance.  If  not  to  them,  to  whom 
should  they  or  could  they  turn  ?  Still  more  the 
high  priest  and  Sanhedrin  embodied  what  little 
semblance  and  remnant  of  authority  the  Romans 
had  left  to  the  Jews. 

The  office  therefore  of  the  high  priest  gather- 
ing in  his  person  as  he  did  both  ecclesiastical  and 
political  supremacy  for  the  nation  and  people  was 
of  extreme  importance  and  of  paramount  influ- 
ence. To  interfere  with  this  supremacy  came 
the  teaching,  the  works,  the  claims  of  one  Jesus 
of  Nazareth ;  His  teaching  so  wonderful  that 
"  the  common  people  heard  Him  gladly,"  and 
crowded  to  listen ;  His  teaching  so  imperative, 
"  for  He  taught  as  one  having  authority  and  not 
as  the  scribes  " ;   His  teaching  so  unique,  "  for 


Caiaphas  47 

never  man  spake  like  this  man " ;  His  teaching 
so  human  and  compassionate,  •'  for  the  Son  of 
Man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  is 
lost "  ;  His  teaching  so  loving  and  forgiving  seen 
in  numberless  instances  when  the  heart-broken 
sinner  departed,  comforted  by  the  words  "  thy 
sins  be  forgiven  thee  ;  go  thy  way,  thy  faith  hath 
saved  thee " ;  this  teaching  had  compelled  and 
drawn  multitudes  to  follow  the  new  teacher. 

Then,  too,  His  miracles  had  attracted  many. 
It  is  perhaps  impossible  for  us  to  realize  what  a 
religious  sensation  and  revolution  the  teaching 
and  miracles  of  Jesus  caused.  All  Palestine 
must  have  been  stirred  to  its  remotest  villages. 
Hundreds  and  thousands  of  families  throughout 
the  land  must  have  discussed  the  merits  and  the 
claims  of  this  new  prophet.  Not  only  Galilee, 
but  Judsea  and  Jerusalem,  must  have  been  filled 
with  rumors  and  reports  of  His  gracious  words 
and  deeds.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive 
the  religious  excitement  and  emotion — and  our 
generation  has  not  been  without  some  religious 
sensations  and  claims — the  strange  longing  and 


48  Caiaphas 

yearning  which  this  Gahlean  Rabbi  aroused. 
What  hopes  and  expectations  must  have  been 
excited;  what  national  ambitions  might  be 
achieved.  Ah !  what  balm  for  the  hungry  and 
wounded  soul  and  heart  might  He  not  fur- 
nish. 

And,  then,  to  crown  all,  think  of  that  un- 
paralleled triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem  a  few 
days  before  the  Passover,  when  almost  a  whole 
city  went  out  to  meet  Him  as  He  came  from 
Bethany  to  Jerusalem,  when  in  rapture  of  joy 
and  enthusiasm  the  multitudes  cut  down  branches 
and  spread  them  in  the  way,  and  even  took  off 
their  outer  garments  and  strewed  them  in  the 
way,  and  with  palm  branches  in  their  hands 
hailed  Him  with  cries,  "•  Hozanna  to  the  Son  of 
David ;  blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord,  Hozanna  in  the  highest."  Can  we 
realize  the  intense  excitement  this  triumphal 
entry  aroused,  and  wonder  that  the  city  was 
moved  to  exclaim,  "  Who  is  this  ?  "  Can  we 
not  readily  credit  the  confession  of  helplessness 
of  the  Pharisees,  "  Perceive  ye  how  ye  prevail 


Caiaphas  49 

nothing  ?  Behold  the  world  is  gone  after  Him  "  ? 
or  again  their  appeal  to  Jesus  to  repress  the 
triumphal  cries,  and  His  reply,  "  I  tell  you  that 
if  these  should  hold  their  peace  the  stones  would 
immediately  cry  out." 

It  was  evident  that  the  relation  of  the  high 
priest  and  elders  to  the  people  was  in  danger. 
The  growing  influence  of  Jesus  with  the  people 
threatened  their  power ;  if  they  did  not  watch 
and  counteract  this  influence,  their  authority  and 
supremacy  soon  would  be  a  thing  of  the  past. 
The  unquestioned  power  which  they  had  exer- 
cised, and  the  implicit  obedience  which  the  peo- 
ple had  rendered  were  both  at  stake.  Do  we 
wonder  that  they  were  unwilling  to  surrender 
their  influence,  power,  authority,  supremacy?  Do 
we  wonder  at  the  jealousy,  envy,  yes  malignant 
hate  which  would  be  aroused  in  the  hearts  of 
the  ecclesiastical  rulers  as  they  noticed  the  un- 
bounded and  growing  popularity  of  this  young 
and  unaccredited  teacher — a  teacher  without 
family  connections,  without  academic  antece- 
dents ;  a  teacher   who   in   many   instances   had 


50  Caiaphas 

shown  his  superiority  to  their  traditions,  and  had 
exposed  with  merciless  sarcasms  their  hypocri- 
sies ;  a  teacher  who  only  a  few  days  before  in 
righteous  anger  had  cleansed  the  Temple  pre- 
cincts of  those  who  sold  doves,  and  had  over- 
thrown the  tables  of  the  money  changers,  yes 
had  cleansed  the  Temple  courts  of  huckstering 
and  bartering,  and  yet  no  one  at  the  time  had 
dared  to  interfere,  or  been  bold  enough  to  resist. 
Surely  this  was  a  critical  time  for  the  ecclesias- 
tical rulers.  If  the  popular  feeling  for  the  Gali- 
lean prophet  grew  then  the  influence  and 
authority  of  the  high  priest  were  doomed. 

We  can  readily  imagine  that  Caiaphas,  the 
high  priest  and  his  family,  were  not  going  to 
yield  without  a  struggle.  They  determined  to 
end  the  career  of  this  unauthorized  teacher,  this 
unconscious  rival  of  theirs. 

But  how  ?  Is  there  not  a  proverb  that  every 
man  has  his  price  ?  The  high  priest  and  rulers 
had  not  lived  and  intrigued  as  long  as  they  had 
without  knowing  that  the  loyalty  of  many  a 
friend,  and  the  allegiance  of  many  a  disciple  can 


Caiaphas  5 1 

be  tampered  with.  Whether  Judas  first  came  to 
them,  or  they  first  made  overtures  to  Judas  the 
plot  between  them  was  settled.  The  rulers  had 
seduced  for  a  paltry  thirty  pieces  of  silver  one 
of  the  inner  circle  of  disciples.  He  would  ar- 
range to  betray  his  Master.  It  would  be  at 
night  when  there  would  be  no  danger  from  the 
people  rising  in  his  defense, — at  night  when  his 
Master  might  best  be  taken  unawares.  How 
greedily  these  religious  rulers  fell  in  with  the 
plan.  How  determined  they  were  that,  when 
they  moved,  they  would  move  swiftly  and 
surely,  would  end  the  pretensions  of  their  rival, 
would  turn  the  popular  tide,  would  regain 
their  fast  waning  influence  and  authority. 

I  need  not  recite  again  the  tragedy  of  the 
Garden,  the  crime  of  eternity.  Humanly 
speaking  the  plot  succeeded  perfectly.  The 
small  band  of  disciples — what  could  it  do  against 
the  great  company  armed  with  swords  and 
staves  ?  Before  this  show  of  force  the  disciples 
fled  ignominiously.  Triumphantly  the  prisoner 
is    led  away  to  the  high  priest's  palace.     And 


5  2  Caiaphas 

there,  though  one  disciple  had  recovered  suf- 
ficient courage  to  follow,  yet  when  confronted 
with  the  fact  of  discipleship  he  shamefully  denies 
his  Lord.  And  alone  before  His  enemies  stands 
Jesus  of  Nazareth — before  Caiaphas,  envious, 
jealous,  worldly, — before  rulers  determined  upon 
His  death. 

Let  us  consider,  then,  the  reasons  for  this  de- 
termination to  put  Jesus  to  death,  this  fierce  ve- 
hemence of  Caiaphas  and  the  rulers  to  justify 
their  condemnation.  The  cause  is  found  in  one 
of  the  blackest  and  most  deadly  of  sins — envy — 
a  sin  so  easily  nursed,  so  silent,  so  unseen,  and 
yet  so  malicious  and  malignant  that  it  seems  to 
spring  from  the  deepest  depths  of  the  heart  of 
Satan  himself, — a  sin  that  like  a  hot  blasting 
storm  wastes  the  heart,  and  dries  up  all  affection, 
all  pity.  If  any  sin  can  be — it,  envy,  is  perhaps 
the  unpardonable  sin.  God  keep  and  preserve 
us  from  its  grasp !  Is  it  a  wonder  that  Jesus 
continually  facing  this  spirit  of  envy  lays  in  His 
Gospel  so  much  stress  on  humihty  ? 

When,  therefore,  the  religious  success  of  Jesus 


Caiaphas  5  3 

aroused  the  nation,  the  rulers — Caiaphas  and  the 
elders — were  moved  with  envy.  They  saw  the 
threatened  overthrow  of  their  religious  and 
political  importance  if  this  religious  revival  con- 
tinued ;  hence  their  envy  which  manifested  itself 
in  two  directions,  viz.  :  in  [a)  religious  intoler- 
ance, and  (b)  promptings  of  worldly  interest. 

(a)  It  seems  like  a  libel  to  say  or  think  that 
religious  teachers  could  be  envious  of  each  other, 
and  become  intolerant,  yet  envy  cloaked  itself 
under  religious  guise,  and  religious  intolerance 
sheltered  itself  under  a  profession  of  attachment 
to  truth  and  tradition.  It  is  noticeable,  as  a  rule, 
that  there  is  little  religious  intolerance  when  one 
side  is  very  strong  and  the  other  very  weak,  so 
that  nothing  is  to  be  feared  from  the  latter,  but 
instead  a  feeling  of  contempt  or  indifference  pre- 
vails. But  just  so  soon  as  the  weak  becomes 
strong,  then  envy  finds  expression  in  religious 
intolerance.  We  see  this  animus  in  the  case  of 
Caiaphas  and  the  rulers.  Now  that  this  teacher 
of  Nazareth  had  become  popular,  and  now  that 
His  following  had  grown  to  such  proportions,  they 


54  Caiaphas 

both  became  threatening  and  must  be  stamped 
out  at  any  cost. 

Notice  then  how  this  envy  showed  itself  in  re- 
Hgious  intolerance.  First  in  treachery.  The 
rulers  seduced  a  disciple  to  betray  for  a  paltry 
sum  his  Master.  This  for  the  reputed  sake  of  re- 
ligion, or  rather  religious  domination.  Do  we 
wonder  that  at  times  religion  is  scorned  and  re- 
jected ?  And  again  because  intolerance  is  cow- 
ardly it  dare  not  arrest  Jesus  in  the  daytime, 
but  treacherously  seizes  Him  in  the  dark  almost 
at  midnight. 

Next  religious  intolerance  led  to  deceit.  The 
false  witnesses  and  their  false  evidence  would 
make  one  who  was  seeking  the  truth  burn  with 
indignation  at  the  evident  perjury.  The  Evan- 
gehsts  tell  us  how  absolutely  irrelevant  was  the 
testimony  against  the  prisoner,  how  it  broke 
down  completely,  and  how,  contrary  to  legal  pre- 
cedents, the  judge  tried  to  make  the  prisoner  in- 
criminate himself. 

Again  religious  intolerance  led  to  injustice  in 
not  affording  the  prisoner  a  chance  to  defend 


Caiaphas  5  5 

Himself.  He  was  given  no  council,  no  witnesses. 
The  evident  purpose  of  the  court  was  to  convict, 
not  to  find  out  the  truth, — a  proceeding  not  un- 
known even  in  modern  courts — when  prosecuting 
attorneys  become  persecuting  attorneys,  and 
seem  bent  on  proving  the  accused  at  the  bar 
guilty,  and  do  not  limit  their  efforts  simply  to  as- 
certain the  exact  truth  in  the  case  by  giving  the 
prisoner  impartial  examination.  Prosecution 
then  becomes  persecution ;  and  perhaps  no  per- 
secution is  ever  so  vindictive  and  cruel  as  re- 
ligious persecution.  The  record  of  trials  for 
heresy,  ancient  and  modern,  testify  to  the  malig- 
nant injustice  of  prosecutors.  Thus  the  trial  of 
Jesus  became  a  mockery  of  justice,  and  in  gross 
violation  of  all  law  the  prisoner  was  adjudged 
worthy  of  death.  Then  vindictiveness  and  mal- 
ice vented  themselves  on  that  innocent  person  in 
cowardly  and  cruel  treatment.  And  remember 
the  coward  is  always  cruel.  What  could  be  more 
cruel  than  the  treatment  of  the  cowardly  servi- 
tors of  the  high  priest,  who  after  the  condemna- 
tion  of  Jesus  •'  began  to  spit  on  Him,  and  to 


56  Caiaphas 

cover  His  face,  and  to  buffet  Him,  and  to  say  unto 
Him,  Prophesy !  and  the  servants  did  strike  Him 
with  the  palms  of  their  hands  ; "  meanwhile  the 
high  priest  and  elders  did  nothing  to  stop  this 
wanton  and  cowardly  treatment. 

{b)  But  if  envy  could  through  religious  in- 
tolerance countenance  such  unjust  and  inhuman 
treatment,  it  also  manifested  itself  in  promptings 
of  worldly  interest.  For  underlying  all  action 
of  Caiaphas  and  the  rulers  was  envy  of  the  in- 
creasing favor  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  with  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  consequent  loss  of  social  and  po- 
litical prestige.  In  the  trial  when  some  justifica- 
tion was  needed  for  condemning  Jesus,  religious 
scruples  were  advanced.  He  was  accused  of 
blasphemy ;  but  earlier  when  the  plot  to  arrest 
Jesus  was  determined  upon,  Caiaphas  was  plain 
enough.  In  the  words  of  our  text  he  enunciated 
"  what  seemed  to  him  the  political  necessity  for 
the  judicial  murder  of  Christ ;  there  was  no  pre- 
tense on  his  part  of  religious  motives  or  zeal  for 
God.  .  .  .  What  was  the  use  of  discussing 
about  forms  of  law  or  about  the  man  ?     .     .     , 


Caiaphas  5  7 

He  spoke  as  the  bold,  unscrupulous,  determined 
man  that  he  was."  Worldly  interest  was  at 
stake,  political  prestige  was  endangered.  It  was 
folly  for  the  elders  to  stand  upon  a  few  techni- 
calities of  law,  if  they  were  to  maintain  their 
preeminence  and  their  supremacy.  With  bold 
arrogance  Caiaphas  swept  aside  all  legal  ob- 
stacles. He  placed  before  the  council  the  alter- 
natives of  the  maintenance  of  their  own  interests 
by  the  death  of  Jesus ;  or  else  the  loss  of  their 
power  if  He  should  be  allowed  to  live.  What 
could  envy  answer  when  confronted  by  such 
alternatives?  Would  it  not  readily  and  un- 
scrupulously use  its  influence  and  force  to  over- 
throw and  conquer  its  rival  ?  Caiaphas  knew  the 
strength  of  the  motive  to  which  he  appealed. 
He  was  clear-sighted,  keen  in  matters  of  self-in- 
terest, arrogant  in  disregarding  the  claims  and 
rights  of  any  who  might  cross  his  path.  The 
result  was  not  uncertain.  The  death  of  Jesus 
was  determined  and  consummated.  And  yet 
Caiaphas  was  a  religious  leader  and  teacher. 
Is  it  possible,  we  ask,  that  the  act  of  Caiaphas 


58  Caiaphas 

should  ever  be  repeated  ?  The  answer  is  found 
in  the  question  has  envy  ceased  to  exist  since  his 
days  ?  Have  not  rehgious  intolerance  and  envy 
been  marked  stains  of  the  Christian  Church, 
spoiling  its  beauty,  blemishing  its  holiness,  des- 
troying its  unity,  corrupting  its  truth  ?  Do  we 
not  to-day  see  religious  intolerance  manifested  in 
scorn  and  ridicule  of  others  who  may  be  doing 
good  in  their  way  which  may  not  be  in  our  way 
— whether  these  be  found  in  our  own  or  in  other 
communions  ?  Has  not  envy  of  the  work  and 
success  of  others  often  called  forth  criticism  and 
condemnation?  Has  not  divine  grace  been 
denied  it  though  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit  are 
abundantly  manifested  ?  Is  not  such  work  often 
called  the  work  of  Beelzebub — thus  repeating 
again  that  awful  spirit  of  Caiaphas  and  the  relig- 
ious rulers  who  in  envy  attributed  the  works  of 
Jesus  to  the  power  of  Beelzebub  ? 

And  then  when  Christians  have  become  im- 
bued with  the  worldly  spirit  have  they  not  been 
only  too  ready  to  use  the  power  of  the  state  to 
crush  those  in  opposition  ?     No  more  disastrous 


CaiapJias  59 

alliance  for  religion  pure  and  undefiled  was  ever 
made  than  that  of  Church  and  State.  No  alli- 
ance has  done  more  to  corrupt  the  Christian 
Church  than  the  conferring  of  temporal  dignities 
and  powers  upon  religious  leaders  as  was  done  in 
Europe  after  the  conversion  of  Constantine.  It 
was  envy  allied  with  worldly  interests  that  made 
it  possible  for  the  Arians  to  persecute  Athana- 
sius,  drive  him  from  his  see  of  Alexandria,  and 
cause  him  to  wander  as  an  exile  for  many 
years.  It  was  this  same  lust  of  temporal  power 
and  envy  that  made  it  possible  for  Christians  to 
persecute  Christians  in  the  Middle  Ages,  to  per- 
petrate the  horrors  of  the  Inquisition,  the  fires  of 
Smithfield,  and  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's Day.  It  was  this  same  spirit  of  envy 
which  made  the  established  Church  of  England 
persecute  in  England  the  Puritans,  compelling 
them  to  flee  to  this  New  World  where  they 
might  exercise  freedom  of  conscience,  and  enjoy 
liberty  of  worship  ;  and  in  turn  made  these  same 
persecuted  Puritans  when  dominant  here,  perse- 
cute the  feeble  and  unprotected  Churchmen  of 


6o  CaiapJias 

this  New  World.  It  is  the  same  spirit  which  to- 
day may  animate  one  communion  to  decry  or 
ridicule  another,  to  watch  one  another  with  jeal- 
ous and  criticizing  eye,  to  find  flaws  in  each 
other's  doctrine,  or  conduct  or  worship,  to  find 
motives  for  disparaging  what  may  seem  to  be 
marks  of  grace,  to  withhold  the  hand  of  fellow- 
ship or  of  kindness,  to  refuse  the  word  of  sym- 
pathy and  encouragement,  to  fail  to  rejoice  in  the 
successes  and  victories  over  evil  crime  or  heath- 
enism of  those  outside  our  own  ecclesiastical 
fences. 

As  I  read  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church 
and  note  its  rent  fragments  and  schisms,  I  think 
I  see  the  satanic  spirit  of  envy  responsible  for 
much  of  our  unhappy  divisions  and  strifes,  for 
our  unbrotherly  recriminations,  for  our  lack  of 
unity  and  truth,  I  see  this  spirit  of  envy  re- 
sponsible for  much  of  the  undoing  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  for  much  of  its  weakness,  its  lack  of 
growth,  and  its  failure  to  mould  and  shape,  to 
control  and  elevate,  to  inspire  and  transfigure  the 
lives  of  the  men  and  women  of  our  time. 


Caiaphas  6i 

Ah  !  the  spirit  of  Caiaphas  and  of  the  rulers — 
the  spirit  of  envy  is  not  dead  to-day.  It  is 
gnawing  at  the  very  heart  of  Christendom.  It  is 
the  spirit  which  says  if  the  cause  of  Christ  can- 
not be  advanced  in  our  way,  but  may  in  an- 
other's way,  then  better  it  should  not  advance 
at  all. 

Rule  or  ruin  is  the  axiom  of  envy,  casting 
stones  and  stumbling  blocks  its  practice. 

It  was  envy  which  slew  and  crucified  the  in- 
nocent Christ  nineteen  hundred  years  ago ;  it  is 
envy  which  to-day  is  rending,  yes,  crucifying 
afresh  His  body  the  Church. 

Well  may  we  Christians  in  shame  and  peni- 
tence pray,  "  From  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  all 
uncharitableness.  Good  Lord  deliver  us." 


IV 

Pontius  Pilate 


IV 

|)onttu0  IpUate 

When  Pilate  saw  that  he  could  prevail  nothing,  but  that 
rather  a  tumult  was  made,  he  took  water,  and  washed  his 
hands  before  the  multitude,  saying,  I  am  innocent  of  the  blood 
of  this  just  person ;  see  ye  to  it. — Matthew  xxvii :  24. 

JUDAS  ISCARIOT  and  Pontius  Pilate— dare 
we  say  twin  wandering  stars  in  the  moral 
heavens  of  human  history  "  to  whom  is  reserved 
the  blackness  of  darkness  forever."  The  one 
betrayed,  the  other  crucified  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
One  initiated,  the  other  concluded  the  world's 
great  crime  of  injustice  and  judicial  murder. 
What  sadder  names  of  what  sadder  characters  can 
be  found  to  surpass  the  infamy  of  these  names 
in  Christian  history !  What  representatives  of 
moral  tragedy,  what  types  of  moral  failure ! 
Who  has  not  heard  the  name  Judas,  and  the 
name   Pilate?     The   Jew   and   the   Roman,  the 

East  and  the  West  linked  and  united  in  the  per- 

6s 


66  Pontius  Pilate 


petration  of  the  crime  of  humanity.  What 
more  convincing  evidence  do  we  need  of  the 
unity  of  man  in  sin  and  condemnation,  what 
clearer  witness  of  the  common  need  of  a  uni- 
versal Saviour. 

As  we  study  the  life  of  Pontius  Pilate,  we 
wonder  at  times  whether  he  could  have  done 
what  he  did  while  in  a  state  of  momentary 
weakness,  whether  the  proud  Roman  strength, 
and  the  respect  for  justice  did  not  suffer  a 
temporary  eclipse.  But  we  have  only  to  go  to 
profane  writers  to  find  out  that  Pilate's  con- 
demnation of  Christ  is  foreshadowed  in  his 
earlier  conduct  and  intercourse  with  the  Jews. 
His  administration  previous  to  our  Lord's  trial 
had  been  one  long  contest  between  Roman 
insolence  and  Jewish  fanaticism,  between  Roman 
irreligiousness  and  Jewish  religious  scrupulosity. 
One  of  Pilate's  first  acts  on  becoming  procurator 
of  Judaea  was  to  move  the  headquarters  of  his 
army  from  Caesarea,  the  former  residence  of  the 
Roman  governor,  to  Jerusalem,  and  to  bring 
with    him    into   the   Holy   City  the   idolatrous 


Pontius  Pilate  67 


standards  of  heathen  Rome.  This  outrage  of 
Jewish  rehgious  scruples  aroused  the  people  to 
frenzy.  They  hurried  in  crowds  to  Caesarea  to 
implore  the  removal  of  these  standards,  and  only 
after  five  days  of  sullen  obstinacy  on  the  part  of 
the  governor,  and  ill-treatment  of  the  Jews  at 
the  hands  of  his  soldiers  did  Pilate  at  length 
yield  to  the  frenzied  mob. 

Then,  too,  he  had  taken  the  Corban — the 
sacred  money  of  the  Temple  treasury — and  had 
put  it  to  the  profane  use  of  constructing  an 
aqueduct.  This  mal-use  of  the  sacred  money  led 
to  another  tumult  which  was  suppressed  by  the 
massacre  not  only  of  rioters,  but  also  innocent 
spectators.  And  once  more  from  Scripture  we 
know  that  on  one  occasion  he  slew  some 
Gahleans  in  the  Temple  while  they  were  wor- 
shiping, and  mingled  their  blood  with  the  blood 
of  the  sacrifices. 

Pilate's  rule  had  been  troubled  from  the  be- 
ginning. He  hated  the  Jewish  fanaticism,  while 
the  Jews  hated  his  insolent  imperiousness.  He 
continually  quarreled  with  them,  and  freely  shed 


68  Pontius  Pilate 


their  blood,  while  they  in  turn  accused  him  of 
corruption,  cruelty,  and  maladministration. 

One  has  thus  ventured  to  describe  Pilate — ' 
"  His  aspect  is  cold  and  dark.  His  countenance 
is  bloodless,  his  eyes  restless,  near  together,  and 
set  deep  beneath  his  brows.  The  features  are 
very  fixed  and  more  as  if  they  were  made  of 
stone  than  of  flesh.  He  neither  smiles,  nor 
gives  evidence  on  the  surface  of  any  emotion 
either  agreeable  or  painful  .  .  .  except  that 
at  times  a  shadow  so  deep  .  .  .  lends  to 
his  face  the  darkness  and  terrors  of  night  and 
death.  A  selfish  rapacity,  and  a  heartless  dis- 
regard of  the  rights  and  Hves  of  those  who 
come  within  his  power  have  made  him  to  be 
noted  not  only  here  in  the  east,  but  at  Rome 
also.  He  is  a  person  into  whose  hands  one 
would  unwillingly  fall,  who  would  not  perhaps 
injure  or  slay  so  much  from  feelings  of  wanton 
cruelty  as  from  a  cold  indifference  to  the  life  of 
another ;  just  as  there  are  those  who  will  not, 
truly,  go  out  of  their  way  to  crush  an  insect,  but 
will  not  turn  aside  the  breadth  of  a  hair,  if  one 


Pontius  Pilate  69 


should  perchance  He  in  their  path ;  and  those 
who,  if  through  some  error,  they  have  been  the 
cause  of  innocent  hves  being  destroyed,  will 
enjoy  none  the  less  their  next  hour's  rest,  or 
their  next  cup  of  wine."  It  was  before  such  a 
man  with  this  antecedent  history  and  character 
that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  brought  for  trial.  Can 
much  be  hoped  for  from  Pilate ;  can  we  expect 
much  mercy  from  one  who  despised  the  religious 
fanaticism  of  the  Jews  ?  Dare  Jesus  hope  for 
acquittal  ? 

It  is  the  time  of  the  Passover.  Pilate  accord- 
ing to  his  wont  has  come  from  Caesarea  up  to 
Jerusalem,  to  be  near  at  hand  in  case  any  riot 
should  arise  from  religious  frenzy.  There  seem 
to  be  indications  of  some  excitement  in  the 
rapturous  greeting  of  the  Galilean  prophet, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  The  city  had  gone  into 
ecstasies  on  His  entrance.  He  will  bear  watch- 
ing. And  now  just  before  the  Passover,  the 
chief  priests  early  in  the  morning  bring  before 
the  governor  this  very  Jesus  of  Nazareth  bound 
as  a  prisoner,  and  charge  Him  with  being  a  male- 


70  Pontius  Pilate 


factor.  The  specific  accusations  at  the  first  were, 
He  was  perverting  the  nation — this  was  a  charge 
of  conspiracy ;  He  was  forbidding  to  pay- 
tribute  to  Csesar — this  was  revolution ;  He  was 
claiming  to  be  a  king  Himself — this  was  treason. 
Serious  charges,  were  they  true.  The  Roman 
governor  had  been  resident  long  enough  in 
Judaea  to  know  that  such  charges  if  true  instead 
of  being  a  cause  for  accusation  or  surrender  on 
the  part  of  his  countrymen  would  be  an  occasion 
of  rejoicing  to  a  people  who  resented  bitterly 
the  burden  of  the  Roman  yoke,  who  hated  their 
imperial  masters,  and  were  only  too  ready  to  rise 
in  revolt  against  them,  and  to  assist  any  one  who 
offered  to  lead  them  to  victory  and  independence. 
No !  No !  Pilate  realized  that  Jews  did  not 
have  such  tender  respect  for  Roman  rule  as  to  be 
willing  to  accuse  one  of  their  own  countrymen 
for  raising  the  standard  of  revolt.  The  charges 
were  evidently  a  cover  to  conceal  some  deeper 
design.  He  knew  that  the  popularity  and  even 
the  authority  of  the  Jewish  hierarchy  had  been 
threatened    by   the   growing   influence   of    this 


Pontius  Pilate  yi 


Galilean  prophet.  He  cared,  however,  little  for 
their  religious  rivalries  and  feuds.  He  knew  that 
for  envy  the  chief  priests  had  accused  Jesus. 
He  was  fully  conscious  of  the  innocence  of  the 
prisoner  before  him,  whose  calm  bearing,  whose 
mild  countenance  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
malevolent  and  vindictive  vehemence  of  his 
accusers.  A  very  brief  examination  of  the 
prisoner  confirms  Pilate's  intuitions,  and  he 
openly  tells  the  chief  priests,  "  I  find  in  Him  no 
fault  at  all,"  and  he  endeavors  to  set  Jesus  free. 
Three  different  times  in  the  course  of  the  trial, 
Pilate  distinctly  asserts  the  innocence  of  Jesus : 
three  times  he  declares,  "  I  find  in  Him  no  fault 
at  all."  Yet  with  this  firm  conviction,  and 
reiterated  declaration  of  the  innocence  of  the 
prisoner,  why  does  the  governor  hesitate  to  act 
upon  his  convictions,  how  is  it  that  eventually 
he  fails  to  acquit,  and  to  release  Jesus  ? 

We  ask,  why  was  it  that  Pilate,  the  governor 
and  judge,  appointed  to  dispense  justice,  failed 
so  wretchedly  in  doing  his  duty  ?  Stern,  un- 
bending Roman,  haughty  and  insolent  to  these 


72  Pontius  Pilate 


provincials,   what   were    the   causes    of    Pilate's 
failure,  and  utter  shipwreck  of  life  ? 

Into  every  Hfe  there  comes  some  time — and 
often  we  are  unconscious  of  it — the  supreme 
trial  of  our  character  and  life — the  crisis  of  our 
spiritual  history.  It  is  the  fatal  moment  when  is 
poised  in  the  balances  our  future  destiny,  and  our 
faithfulness  or  unfaithfulness  in  this  instance 
determines  for  good  or  evil,  for  honor  or  dis- 
honor, for  success  or  failure  our  whole  after  life. 
The  event  may  come  into  our  experience  just  as 
one  of  the  many  ordinary  incidents  of  our  life. 
There  is  nothing  strange  or  unusual  about  the 
event :  it  may  be  the  repetition  of  some  past  ex- 
perience :  it  is  something  we  are  accustomed  to. 
Thus  Pilate  had  often  sat  in  the  judgment  seat. 
It  was  no  new  thing  for  him  to  try  cases.  When, 
therefore,  Jesus  stood  before  him  to  be  tried,  it 
was  no  new  experience,  it  was  nothing  extra- 
ordinary in  the  governor's  life.  And  yet 
natural  as  was  the  event,  it  was  the  critical 
moment  of  Pilate's  life ;  it  was  the  supreme  test 
of  his  character,  and  in  the  test  he  failed. 


PoJitius  Pilate  73 


The  reasons  for  this  failure  are  not  difficult  to 
find.  In  spite  of  his  sternness  Pilate  was  a  weak, 
irresolute  man  because  he  was  selfish,  self-seeking, 
untrue  and  unfaithful. 

Consider  his  selfishness.  His  Hfe  was  con- 
trolled by  thoughts  of  personal  advancement. 
He  was  what  we  would  call  to-day  an  opportunist. 
He  had  his  ear  close  to  the  ground  listening  for 
the  rumblings  of  coming  events,  and  trying  to 
forecast  the  way  imperial  or  popular  whim  and 
caprice  might  turn.  He  was  governed  by  shifting 
circumstances,  not  by  eternal  principles.  Though 
convinced  of  the  innocence  of  the  prisoner,  and 
anxious  to  release  Him,  yet  when  the  multi- 
tude shouted,  "  If  thou  let  this  man  go,  thou  art 
not  Caesar's  friend,"  the  fear  of  imperial  displeasure 
swept  away  every  instinct  of  mercy,  and  con- 
sideration of  justice;  the  dread  of  loss  of  power 
and  station  made  him  yield  himself  a  tool  to  in- 
justice and  crime.  "  Circumstances  it  is  often 
said  mould  men ;  but  it  often  depends  upon  a 
man  himself  after  what  fashion  these  circum- 
stances shall  mould  him  "  :  whether  he  shall  be 


74  Pontius  Pilate 


their  master  or  their  servant.  But  the  oppor- 
tunist never  plays  the  hero.  The  hour  comes, 
and  the  opportunity  comes,  but  he  who  depends 
on  popular  favor  never  can  rise  to  the  oppor- 
tunity or  control  the  circumstances.  What  a 
moment  for  Pilate !  What  a  moment  in  the 
world's  spiritual  history,  what  tremendous  conse- 
quences hung  in  the  balance  !  '*  One  expression 
of  an  honest  and  bold  determination  to  take  on 
himself  a  responsibility  from  which  no  Roman 
magistrate  ought  ever  to  have  shrunk,"  would 
have  freed  the  prisoner,  and  freed  himself.  But 
Pilate  was  not  equal  to  the  emergency.  He 
hesitated,  and  in  that  instant  his  courage  and  his 
resolution  were  swept  away  in  the  wild,  mad 
rage  of  the  mob's  outcry. 

But  this  surrender  would  have  been  impossible 
had  there  not  been  a  more  serious  defect  of 
character.  Pilate  lacked  the  primary  convictions 
of  truth  and  righteousness  ;  he  manifested  a  total 
want  of  principles — the  elemental  root  of  failure 
was  his  moral  weakness  which  led  him  to  pervert 
justice  and  to  disregard  right.     Failing  to  pos- 


Pontiiis  Pilate  75 


sess  any  convictions  of  truth,  lacking  the  princi- 
ple of  righteousness  to  control  life,  we  can  easily 
account  for  his  wretched  vacillation,  his  base 
surrender,  and  his  miserable  theatrical  self-de- 
ception in  the  melodramatic  ablutions  of  his 
hands.  Conscious  of  the  fact  that  Jesus  was 
innocent  of  the  charges  brought  against  Him,  it 
was  the  duty  of  Pilate  as  judge  to  acquit  the 
prisoner,  no  matter  who  the  prosecutors,  no 
matter  how  eminent  in  rank.  But  he  vacillated. 
He  dared  to  argue,  to  dally  with  a  self-evident 
duty.  He  hesitated,  he  fell.  As  one  has  said, 
"  a  man  may  unsettle  the  verdict  of  his  intellect, 
it  is  at  his  peril  that  he  tampers  with  the  con- 
victions of  his  conscience.  There  are  plain  cases 
of  immediate  duty  where  it  is  only  safe  to  act  at 
once."  The  instant  doing  what  we  know  to  be 
right  is  sometimes  the  only  certain  guarantee  of 
doing  right.  To  fail  at  the  instant,  is  to  lose  the 
opportunity  forever,  and  to  involve  us  in  injustice 
and  wrong. 

Then  see  what  a  coward  this  lack  of  righteous 
principle  made  Pilate  who  perhaps  on  the  battle- 


76  Pontitis  Pilate 


field  had  often  faced  death  without  fear.  Notice 
how  when  he  reahzed  his  moral  weakness,  and 
his  absolute  failure  to  do  right  he  tried  to  deceive 
himself  by  the  mock  heroic  act  of  hand-washing 
to  vindicate  himself  from  blood-guiltiness. 
"  What  paltry  expedients  have  a  fascination  for 
weak,  superstitious,  or  demoralized  men."  What 
scrupulosity  we  often  see  in  criminals.  "  The 
scruples  of  unscrupulous  men  are  among  the 
marvels  of  the  history  of  morals."  The  priests 
would  not  enter  Pilate's  palace  fearing  ceremonial 
defilement,  yet  they  did  not  hesitate  to  plot  mur- 
der and  falsely  accuse  the  innocent.  The  rulers 
did  not  scruple  to  seduce  with  money  a  disloyal 
disciple  to  betray  his  Master,  yet  when  that  dis- 
ciple brought  back  that  money  and  cast  it  in  the 
Temple  they  took  it  and  said,  "  It  is  not  lawful  for 
to  put  it  into  the  treasury  because  it  is  the  price 
of  blood."  Pilate  washes  his  hands  to  attest  his 
innocence,  yet  condemns  to  crucifixion  the  inno- 
cent Jesus.  Men  may  endow  churches,  build 
hospitals,  and  erect  colleges,  yet  not  hesitate  to 
wring  millions   out  of   the  sweat  of  underpaid 


Pontius  Pilate  77 


labor.  They  may  give  solid  gold  communion 
services  to  churches,  yet  the  very  purchase- 
money  of  these  services  may  be  dishonestly 
gained.  The  pity  of  it  all  is  that  this  act  of 
hand-washing — actual  and  metaphorical — is 
worthless.  It  but  adds  hypocrisy  to  crime.  In 
the  case  of  Pilate  it  was  the  seal  of  hopeless  sur- 
render, and  the  complete  demoralization  of  his 
life.  He  became  an  accomplice  in  the  judicial 
murder  of  the  innocent  prophet  of  Galilee,  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  the  Son  of  God. 

The  life  of  Pilate  may  be  summed  up  as  a 
tragedy  of  moral  weakness.  It  is  a  witness  to 
the  truth,  that  when  tried,  often  against  his  will, 
his  knowledge,  his  judgment,  the  morally  weak 
man  will  prove  unjust,  cruel,  unfaithful,  cowardly, 
and  that  moral  weakness  may  be  a  •'  source  of 
crimes  no  less  awful  than  those  which  spring 
from  deliberate  and  reckless  wickedness."  The 
history  of  some  of  England's  kings  is  a  sad  con- 
firmation of  this  truth.  And  the  pity  of  it  is, 
that  nothing  can  be  done  to  help  such  people. 
Hands  may  be  stretched  out  to  save  them  but  all 


78  Pontius  Pilate 


in  vain.  Pilate's  wife  did  what  she  could  to  save 
her  husband  from  the  crime  he  was  drifting  into. 
She  warned  and  implored  him,  but  her  troubled 
dream  was  unavailing,  Pilate  was  already  adrift 
on  that  moral  ocean  of  unrighteousness  where 
the  darkness  shuts  out  all  light,  conceals  all  di- 
rection ;  he  was  already  beyond  her  reach.  It 
was  his  past  which  now  hindered  his  doing  right 
and  saving  himself.  His  past  government  had 
been  unjust,  inhuman,  corrupt,  and  he  knew  it. 
This  past  the  Jews  now  held  as  a  threat  over  his 
head,  if  he  did  not  yield  to  their  demand  for  this 
innocent  life.  They  might  easily  fling  at  him 
the  taunt, — what  mattered  it  to  him  one  life 
more — innocent  or  guilty — to  him  who  had  al- 
ready recklessly  put  many  to  death.  Yet  never 
did  Pilate  struggle  so  to  do  right  as  now;  he 
wanted  to  do  a  humane  and  righteous  act,  but 
his  past  misconduct  hampered  him.  Is  it  not  a 
criminal's  past  which  generally  frustrates  refor- 
mation ?  Well  has  it  been  said,  "  There  is  noth- 
ing which  so  frustrates  good  resolutions,  and 
paralyzes  noble  efforts  as  the  dead  weight  of  past 


Pontius  Pilate  79 


sins.  There  are  companies  in  which  men  cannot 
utter  the  fine  high-sounding  things  they  would 
say  elsewhere,  because  there  are  present  those 
who  know  how  their  lives  have  contradicted 
them.  This  is  the  curse  of  past  sin, — it  will  not 
let  us  do  the  good  we  would."  Alas  for  Pilate  ! 
His  past  now  impeded  him.  He  could  not  do 
right  though  he  wanted  to.  He  was  driven 
along  against  his  will,  farther  and  farther  into  the 
net  of  circumstances  he  was  dragged,  until 
against  his  judgment  and  convictions  he  was 
forced  to  condemn  an  innocent  man  to  death. 
He  tries  to  shirk  the  responsibility  of  condemn- 
ing the  Christ,  he  washes  his  hands  to  maintain 
his  innocence,  but  time  has  not  acquitted  him. 
His  compHcity  in  the  crucifixion  can  never  be 
forgotten. 

"  Pilate  dreaded  to  have  any  act  or  part  in  our 
Lord's  sentence,  and  what  is  the  issue  ?  By  a 
marvelous  providence  this  man,  whose  aim  from 
first  to  last  was  to  escape  being  identified  in  any 
way  with  that  sentence,  now  stands  alone  forever 
and    infamously    identified   with    it.     This    one 


8o  Pontius  Pilate 


name  of  Pontius  Pilate  is  more  closely  associated 
with  our  Lord's  death  than  that  of  any  other 
concerned  in  it.  Annas,  Caiaphas,  the  false 
priests,  the  cruel  people,  even  the  traitor,  Judas, 
are  comparatively  set  aside.  Their  names  have 
no  place  in  the  Christian  creed.  But  there  he 
stands  in  the  history  of  the  world  and  the  creed 
of  Christendom,  for  nearly  nineteen  hundred 
years  recorded  as  having  done  that  deed,  which 
to  the  last  he  struggled  against,  and  tried  to  per- 
suade himself  he  did  not  do.  Every  day  for 
those  centuries — first,  from  the  depths  of  caves 
and  catacombs  where  the  followers  of  Him 
whom  he  condemned  were  compelled  to  hide — 
then  rising  to  light,  swelling,  surging,  spreading 
over  the  earth — in  the  first  lispings  of  childhood, 
in  the  solemn  celebrations  of  all  churches,  in  the 
last  confessions  of  faith  of  the  dying ;  from  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  voices  has  the  tre- 
mendous witness  of  all  Christendom  gone  up  to 
heaven,  '  He  suffered  under  Pontius  Pilate.' " 

Unhappy  man  ending  life  in  an  unhappy  fate. 
It  is  the  irony  of  history  that  events  repeat  them  - 


Pontius  Pilate  8 1 


selves.  Tradition  tells  us  that  soon  after  the 
crucifixion  Pilate  was  recalled  to  Rome  to  answer 
to  complaints  brought  against  his  evil  and  cor- 
rupt administration.  He  never  returned  to 
Jud^a,  but  was  banished  by  the  emperor  into 
Gaul  where  at  length  *'  wearied  out  with  miser- 
ies "  he  ended  his  life  with  his  own  hand,  and 
died  an  unhappy  suicide. 

And  it  is  to  be  noted  with  serious  thought, 
that  all  who  were  implicated  in  our  Lord's  con- 
demnation perished  miserably.     Judas  in  his  re- 
morse hanged  himself.     Pilate   died   a  suicide. 
Herod  ended  his  Hfe  in  exile,  and  the  people 
who  in  frenzied  madness  shouted  the  awful  im- 
precation, "  His  blood  be  on  us  and  on  our  chil- 
dren," lived  to  see  the  curse  fulfilled  when  Jeru- 
salem, the  Holy  City,  was  razed  to  the  ground, 
so  that  not  one  stone  was  left  on  top  of  another, 
when,  too,  in  the  awful  scenes  about  the  city  in 
that  direful  siege,  so  many  Jews  were  crucified 
that   "room  was  wanting  for  the  crosses,  and 
crosses  wanting  for   the   bodies."     And  driven 
from  their  country,  "  Still  have  these  wanderers 


82  Pofitius  Pilate 


seemed  to  bear  from  century  to  century  and 
from  land  to  land  that  burden  of  blood ;  and 
still  does  it  seem  to  weigh  '  on  us  and  on  our 
children.' " 

But  Pilate  has  his  modern  counterparts.  He 
is  but  a  type  of  all  who  possessed  of  an  unworthy 
ambition,  are  eager  for  power  or  place,  favor  or 
wealth,  at  any  cost,  at  any  sacrifice ;  who  when 
put  to  the  moral  test  break  down,  surrender  to 
expediency,  deny  truth,  pervert  justice,  ignore 
rights.  He  is  a  type  of  all  those  who  are  ready 
to  surrender  the  innocent  to  popular  clamor, 
who  are  ready  to  abandon  a  cause  or  a  friend 
when  unpopular;  who  to  win  favor  will  be  un- 
just and  untrue,  who  in  the  mad  struggle  and 
rush  for  the  world's  prizes  will  crush  the  help- 
less, who  to  save  themselves  will  condemn  the 
innocent. 

Again  Pilate  stands  to-day  as  the  representa- 
tive of  all  those  morally  weak,  who  shirk  respon- 
sibility, who  are  afraid  and  dare  not,  or  will  not 
decide  on  some  momentous  issue  and  yet  must 
do  so,  and  even  while  they  hesitate  and  shrink 


Pontius  Pilate  83 


are  sucked  into  the  boiling  current  of  circum- 
stances and  are  swept  away  on  its  foaming  tide, — 
helpless,  shattered  wrecks  tossed  hither  and 
thither,  having  lost  self-respect,  name,  honor,  and 
the  very  prize  which  they  hoped  to  win  by  re- 
fusing to  decide.  Don't  we  see  these  modern 
Pilates  by  hundreds  and  thousands  abdicating 
their  duties,  declining  their  responsibilities, 
wretched  waverers,  not  wishing  to  do  wrong  yet 
not  daring  to  do  right,  hesitating  to  give  a  firm 
and  definite  decision  for  God  and  His  Christ. 
They  are  trimmers  in  religion,  hence  untrue :  op- 
portunists in  the  world,  hence  unjust. 

There  is  but  one  safeguard  for  any  of  us  from 
the  fate  of  Pilate.  It  is  to  have  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, and  a  firm  grip  of  the  principle  of  right- 
eousness,— never  to  hesitate  to  obey  the  dictates 
of  conscience,  never  to  tamper  with  the  convic- 
tions of  the  soul,  never  to  hearken  to  the  urgent 
claims  of  expediency  as  voiced  by  the  cries  of  the 
mob,  or  popular  demands  ;  but  daring  to  face  any 
and  all  consequences,  even  though  doing  the 
right  drives  one  naked  from  home,  strips  one  of 


84  Po7itius  Pilate 


all  the  world  holds  precious,  if  only  conscience 
and  honor  are  left,  if  only  truth  and  righteous- 
ness have  been  followed,  if  only  the  soul  is 
unstained,  and  life  is  upright  before  God  and 
man. 


V 

Herod 


V 

§ercib 

And  when  Herod  saw  Jesus,  he  was  exceeding  glad ;  for  he 
was  desirous  to  see  Him  of  a  long  season,  because  he  had  heard 
many  things  of  Him ;  and  he  hoped  to  have  seen  some  miracle 
done  by  Him.  Then  he  questioned  Him  in  many  words  but 
He  answered  him  nothing. — Luke  xxiii :  8,  9, 

DURING  the  trial  of  Jesus  before  Pilate,  there 
comes  a  lull — for  a  short  while  the  scene 
changes.  For  when  Pilate  heard  that  Jesus  was 
from  Galilee,  he  sent  Jesus  to  Herod,  who  had 
legal  jurisdiction  of  Galilee,  for  judgment.  But 
we  are  justified  in  believing  that  had  Pilate  cared 
very  much  himself  to  decide  the  case  of  Jesus, 
he  would  have  paid  little  heed  to  Herod's  rights. 
But  Pilate  was  not  anxious  to  condemn  Jesus. 
In  fact  he  was  eager  to  get  rid  of  any  decision  in 
the  matter,  he  therefore  readily  accepted  what 
seemed  to  him  a  loophole  of  escape,  a  chance  to 
shift  the  decision  of  the  guilt  or  innocence  of 

87 


SB  Herod 

Jesus  on  some  one  else.  Gladly,  therefore,  Pilate 
sent  Jesus  to  Herod.  Now  in  all  probability  the 
Roman  governor  would  be  rid  of  all  responsi- 
bility. He  would  escape  the  guilt  of  condemn- 
ing an  innocent  man ;  he  would  escape  yielding 
to  the  murderous  cry  of  the  multitude,  "  Crucify 
Him."  It  was  not  justice  but  moral  cowardice 
which  brings  Jesus  before  still  another  judge  and 
another  court.  From  the  Roman  Pilate  Jesus 
was  thus  led  to  the  Idumean  Herod  who  had 
come  to  Jerusalem  to  keep  the  Passover. 

**  And  when  Herod  saw  Jesus  he  was  exceed- 
ing glad."  Was  he  glad  because  now  he  would 
have  a  chance  to  do  justice  to  an  innocent  resi- 
dent of  his  own  jurisdiction,  and  whom  the  Ro- 
man governor  seemed  inclined  to  yield  to  popu- 
lar clamor ;  was  he  glad  because  now  he  would 
have  a  chance  to  pay  his  homage  to  the  great 
prophet  and  teacher  of  Galilee ;  was  he  glad  be- 
cause now  he  would  be  able  to  acknowledge  him- 
self a  disciple,  and  make  some  reparation  for  his 
father's  crimes  ? 

Why  was  he  glad  ?     Who  was  this  Herod  ? 


Herod  89 

Let  us  learn  who  this  Herod  was,  what  his  an- 
cestry. 

Herod,  known  as  Herod  Antipas,  was  a  son 
of  Herod  the  Great,  who  about  thirty  years  be- 
fore had  slaughtered  the  innocent  babes  of  Beth- 
lehem ;  son  of  that  vindictive,  cruel,  and  jealous 
king  who  in  his  fury  never  spared  life,  not  even 
that  dearest  to  himself,  who  in  blind  rage  and 
suspicion  of  conspiracy  murdered  his  wife  the 
noble  Mariamne — the  last  of  the  great  and  heroic 
Maccabean  family,  and  further  murdered  many 
of  his  own  sons,  so  that  the  Emperor  Augustus 
is  reported  to  have  said,  "  It  is  better  to  be 
Herod's  pig  than  his  son."  What,  I  ask,  are  we 
to  expect  from  the  son  of  such  a  father  ? 

When  Herod  the  Great  died  his  son  Herod 
Antipas  was  made  tetrarch  of  Galilee  and  Perea. 
On  his  accession,  in  accordance  with  the  Herod- 
ian  instincts  and  poHcy,  he  had  built  cities  and 
fortresses.  He  kept  court  on  the  lavish  scale  of 
an  Eastern  prince,  yet  adopted  many  Roman 
usages.  He  gathered  about  himself  a  party 
known  as  the  Herodians,  Jewish  supporters  of 


90  Herod 

his  pretensions  to  the  kingship  of  Israel.  He 
had  married  a  daughter  of  Aretas,  but  the  am- 
bition of  Herod  to  be  styled  king,  his  intrigues, 
and  his  sensuality  led  him  to  divorce  his  wife, 
and  to  enter  into  a  criminal  connection  with 
Herodias,  the  wife  of  his  brother  Phihp.  What 
he  hoped  would  be  his  gain  proved  his  ruin. 
Herodias  became  his  evil  genius.  She  was  am- 
bitious, unscrupulous,  cruel  and  revengeful. 
Step  by  step  she  led  Herod  into  crimes  that 
otherwise  he  might  never  have  committed. 

But  this  notorious,  adulterous  connection  of 
Herod  with  Herodias — his  own  niece  as  well  as 
his  brother's  wife — could  not  be  overlooked  by 
the  great  preacher  of  repentance  then  baptizing 
in  the  river  Jordan.  The  tetrarch  is  boldly  re- 
buked by  John  Baptist,  who  said  to  Herod, 
"  It  is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  thy  brother's 
wife."  Need  we  wonder  at  Herodias'  hate  of 
the  Baptist,  and  at  her  spirit  of  revenge  when 
thus  rebuked.  Is  it  at  all  surprising  that  John 
was  seized  and  cast  into  prison,  that  Herodias 
would  have  killed  him,  were  it  not  that  Herod 


Herod  9 1 

feared    the  people  had  he  consented  to  so  in- 
famous a  deed  ? 

But  notice  how  crime  leads  to  crime,  and  how 
the  commission  of  evil  is  often  only  deferred 
when  life  is  corrupt  and  untrue.  One  day — 
Herod's  birthday — he  made  a  great  banquet  for 
his  lords,  high  captains  and  chiefs,  and  after 
fulness  of  eating  and  excess  of  wine,  while  the 
mad  revel  of  the  banqueters  was  at  its  height, 
there  entered  the  daughter  of  Herodias  and 
danced  before  the  besotted  king  and  his  com-» 
pany.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  and  in 
maudlin  boastful  condition  of  mind  Herod  swears 
by  an  oath  to  give  the  princess,  who  had  just 
degraded  her  princely  dignity  and  virgin 
modesty,  whatever  she  might  ask,  even  to  the 
half  of  his  kingdom.  The  boast  was  vain,  be- 
cause at  best  the  tetrarch  was  subject  to  the 
Roman  emperor.  A  hurried  consultation  with 
her  designing  mother  determines  the  daughter's 
choice.  Now  was  the  mother's  opportunity  of 
revenge.  In  came  the  daughter  of  Herodias  to 
demand   her   reward,  saying,  "  I    will  that  thou 


92  Herod 

give  me  straightway  in  a  charger  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist." 

What  will  this  driveling  tetrarch  do  now  ? 
The  demand  sobers  him  at  once.  Will  he  not 
give  anything  rather  than  this,  will  he  not  sur- 
render anything  rather  than  commit  injustice 
and  murder?  Will  he  not  plead  his  intoxication 
of  brains  and  sense  as  an  excuse  for  release  from 
fulfilling  such  an  iniquitous  pledge  ?  We  read, 
•'  The  king  was  exceeding  sorry,  yet  for  his 
oath's  sake — yes  his  drunken  oath — and  for 
their  sakes  Avhich  sat  with  him  he  would  not  re- 
ject her."  "  And  immediately  the  king  sent  an 
executioner  and  commanded  the  Baptist's  head 
to  be  brought."  Thus  was  sacrificed  this  noble 
preacher  of  righteousness,  this  prophet  of  holi- 
ness who  dared  to  reprove  even  kings  in  their 
courts ;  and  to  this  vicious  maiden,  daughter  of  a 
\vicked  and  cruel  mother,  was  given  the  head  of 
John  the  Baptist. 

Can  we  not  easily  predict  the  end?  Herod 
lived  on  still  trying  to  deceive  himself.  He  had 
even    now  come  up  to   Jerusalem  to   keep  the 


Herod  93 

Passover,  though  his  Hfe  was  one  great  crime, 
and  his  hands  were  stained  with  innocent  blood. 
And  now  while  at  Jerusalem  to  keep  the 
Passover  comes  an  opportunity  he  had  long  de- 
sired, he  has  at  length  the  chance  of  gratifying 
this  wish,  he  is  to  see  Jesus  of  whom  he  had 
heard  many  wonderful  things,  and  of  whom  he 
hoped  to  see  some  miracle.  Unexpectedly  Jesus 
is  sent  before  him  for  trial.  Herod  questioned 
the  prisoner  before  him  in  many  words,  but 
Jesus  answered  him  nothing.  What  supreme 
contempt  w^as  this  from  a  prisoner  ?  The  king 
could  not  understand  it.  But  repeated  question- 
ing could  ehcit  no  answer.  The  prisoner  re- 
mained absolutely  silent.  And  so  in  desperation 
Herod  with  his  men  of  war  set  at  naught  and 
mocked  the  innocent  sufferer,  and  after  they  had 
vented  upon  Him  all  the  indignities  that  malice 
and  spite  could  invent,  in  derision  they  arrayed 
Jesus  in  a  gorgeous  robe  and  sent  Him  back  to 
Pilate.  Herod  had  already  committed  one 
murder,  may  we  not  believe  that  the  recollection 
of  that  terrible  act  of  injustice  now  stayed  his 


94  Herod 

hand ;  he  would  send  this  prisoner  away  before 
he  could  be  tempted  to  repeat  his  fornaer  in- 
famous deed.  He  will  not  exercise  the  rights 
which  are  clearly  his — a  faint  spark  of  justice  yet 

remains,  or  at  least  of  humanity No!  he 

will  not  imbrue  his  hands  in  blood  again.  The 
agony  of  remorse,  and  the  stings  of  conscience 
are  too  keen  and  harrowing  for  him  to  desire  to 
add  any  pangs  to  his  already  tortured  soul ;  he 
will  send  the  prisoner  back  to  Pilate. 

But  there  was  no  repentance  in  this  act ;  and 
though  Herod  was  not  actively  guilty  of  our 
Lord's  death  by  assenting  to  it,  yet  in  a  certain 
sense  he  was  negatively  guilty  in  not  using  the 
opportunity  afforded  him  of  acquitting  Jesus 
when  it  was  in  his  power  to  do  so.  And  his 
end,  like  that  of  others  connected  with  the 
crucifixion  of  Jesus,  was  disastrous.  Urged  by 
the  ambition  of  his  evil  genius,  Herodias,  he 
went  with  her  to  Rome  to  sue  from  the  emperor 
the  title  of  king ;  but  a  report  of  his  misdeeds 
had  preceded  him,  and  instead  of  being  honored 
with  the  title  he  sought,  he  with  his  wife  Herodias 


Herod  95 

was  banished  to  Gaul,  where  he  died  in  exile  and 
disgrace,  unwept  and  unloved. 

And  yet  Herod's  is  not  a  strange  or  singular 
character.  There  is  nothing  unusual  about  him 
which  makes  it  impossible  to  repeat  him  to-day. 
He  was  vain,  weak,  sensual,  frivolous,  curious, 
fond  of  pleasure,  fond  of  sensation,  and  at  the 
same  time  superstitious,  thinking  superstition  re- 
ligion. Are  these  characteristics  so  abnormal  to- 
day ?  Have  these  frailties  of  Herod  been  banished 
from  our  life  ?  Are  there  no  men  with  the  same 
disposition  and  character  ?  It  makes  little  differ- 
ence what  the  first  tendency  to  sin  may  be,  one 
sin  leads  to  another,  and  after  a  while  crimes 
are  committed  that  at  first  one  would  shrink 
from. 

Ambition  and  vanity  were  among  the  first 
of  Herod's  temptations  to  crime.  He  had  all 
the  Herodian  ambition  of  his  father  for  power 
and  place.  Like  his  father,  he  was  artful, 
cunning,  and  fond  of  display,  though  he  lacked 
his  father's  vigor  and  genius.  His  ambition  and 
policy  led   him   to    imitate    Roman  habits.     In 


96  Herod 

hope  of  winning  imperial  favor  he  paid  a  slavish 
subserviency  to  the  emperor's  whims.  He  built 
cities  and  fortresses  and  named  them  after  the 
emperor  and  his  relatives.  Yet  in  spite  of 
Romanizing  tendencies  he  kept  the  Jewish  feasts, 
and  observed  the  ceremonial  law.  He  had  two 
faces — one  turned  to  Rome,  the  other  to  Jeru- 
salem. It  was  this  cunning  which  drew  from 
our  Lord  the  exclamation  concerning  Herod, 
"  Go  tell  that  fox."  Have  we  not  two  faced  men 
and  women  to-day — one  face  turned  to  God,  the 
other  to  the  world  ? 

Again  we  notice  in  Herod  a  fondness  for 
sensation  and  the  curious.  When  he  heard  of 
the  miracles  of  Jesus  he  wished  to  see  some 
miracle  wrought.  Pilate's  sending  of  Jesus  to 
him  for  examination  was  just  the  thing  to  gratify 
his  love  of  the  curious.  Here  was  the  chance  of 
a  new  sensation,  something  he  had  longed  for. 
His  court  had  been  haunted  by  singers,  dancers, 
jugglers.  They  had  ceased  to  possess  novelty. 
But  the  presence  of  Jesus  was  something  which 
promised  a  sensation  far  surpassing  any  former 


Herod  97 

sensation.  "  He  was  exceeding  glad  to  see 
Jesus."  Now  he  would  have  a  chance  to  behold 
this  miracle  worker  display  His  skill.  The  king's 
request  could  only  be  construed  as  a  compli- 
ment. He  put  Jesus  "  on  the  level  of  a  new 
dancer  or  singer ;  he  looked  on  His  miracles  as  a 
species  of  conjuring  or  magic."  What  must  have 
been  Herod's  surprise  when  the  prisoner  not  only 
did  not  exhibit  His  miraculous  powers,  but  did 
not  even  answer  the  many  questions  asked. 
What  a  stinging  rebuke,  what  a  complete 
collapse  of  the  king's  hopes  of  amusement.  As 
in  Herod's  case,  so  in  that  of  many  to-day,  the 
religion  of  Jesus  is  but  another  form  of  amuse- 
ment or  entertainment,  a  relief  from  the  dreari- 
ness and  tedium  of  life,  a  change  from  the 
monotony  of  the  secular  every-day  world. 
They  go  to  church  to  be  entertained,  or  they 
go  for  some  intellectual  titillation ;  they  go  to 
hear  fine  music,  or  they  go  for  aesthetic  gratifi- 
cation afforded  by  ornate  ritual,  and  because  they 
have  been  in  what  is  called  a  church  they  some- 
how  fancy  they  are   religious,  as    if  a   church 


98  Herod 

sanctified  religion,  instead  of  religion  sanctifying 
a  church.  In  such  cases  where  has  been  the 
communion  of  the  soul  with  its  God ;  where  has 
been  any  divine  voice  speaking  to  that  life  ?  Just 
as  when  Christ  was  questioned  in  many  things 
by  Herod  and  remained  silent,  so  in  these  cases 
Christ  does  not  speak.  Is  not  the  retribution  for 
sensation  in  religion  the  consequent  steriHty  of 
result,  the  manifest  absence  of  spiritual  power, 
the  utter  lack  of  inspiration  and  of  stimulus  to 
correct  and  guide  lives  into  truth  and  righteous- 
ness ?  Those  who  come  for  sensation  come  not 
for  God's  sake,  but  only  to  seek  their  own  amuse- 
ment or  the  gratification  of  curiosity.  Is  it  sur- 
prising if  God  is  silent  and  answers  nothing  ? 

But  love  of  sensation  was  not  all.  Herod's 
infamous  connection  with  Herodias  proved  him 
to  be  without  conscience  or  regard  for  the  purity 
and  sanctity  of  life.  Amid  the  licentiousness  of 
those  days,  the  court  of  Herod  and  the  king 
himself  set  the  example  of  profligacy  and  wan- 
tonness. By  his  conduct  Herod  defied  all  moral 
law.     He  gave  himself  up  to  gross  and  sensual 


Herod  99 

indulgence,  and  by  the  revels  of  his  court  he 
sanctioned  the  wildest  license.  I  suppose  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  realize  the  abandonment  of 
the  morals  of  those  days  of  which  an  apostle 
wrote  that  "  it  is  a  shame  even  to  speak  of  those 
things  which  are  done  of  them  in  secret "  :  and  it 
is  quite  possible  to  believe  that  the  same  apostle 
would  give  little  countenance  to  the  publication 
of  our  modern  moral  scandals  that  so  often  dis- 
figure our  public  press,  and  are  scattered  broad- 
cast over  the  land. 

But  with  all  his  immorality — as  so  often  is 
the  case  in  crime — there  was  a  haunting  super- 
stition in  Herod's  Hfe,  and  a  false  and  vain  show 
of  reHgion.  We  read  that  after  Herod  had  im- 
prisoned John  for  rebuking  his  criminal  conduct, 
the  king  would  from  time  to  time  send  for  the 
prisoner,  and  heard  him  gladly,  and  did  many 
things  at  John's  bidding, — yet  he  did  not  put 
away  Herodias  whose  connection  with  him  was 
the  one  foul  crime  which  was  poisoning  his  life. 
Yet  in  spite  of  this  life  Herod  thought  himself 
religious.     "  He  retained  his  vices,  yet  took  an 


1 00  Herod 

interest  in  heavenly  things."     He  was  scrupulous 
about  rites  and  ceremonies,  he  was  curious  about 
religious  matters,  he  was  ready  to  question  Jesus 
about  His  teaching.     Even  now  he  was  in  Jeru- 
salem to  keep  the  Passover.     Yes,   Herod  was 
quite   strict    in   the  observance  of  Jewish  cere- 
monial law,  no   matter  what  he  did   in  regard  to 
God's   moral  law.     But   it  is   one  thing  to  talk 
about  religion,  or  to  be   curious  about  religious 
forms  and  ceremonies,  it  is  another  thing  to  be 
religious.     Our  apparent  religiousness  may  man- 
ifest itself  in  "  questions  in   many  words."     We 
want  to  know, — but  why  ?     Is  it  to  beheve,  and 
then  to  put  belief  into  practice,  or  only  to  gratify 
curiosity,  or  to  deaden  remorse  ?     Do  you  sup- 
pose Herod  intended  to  do  anything  if  Jesus  had 
bidden  him  ?     Do  you  think  he  had  the  slightest 
idea  of  conforming  his   conduct  to  any  appeals 
Jesus    might    make?     So    with    many    to-day. 
They  profess  to  have  doubts,  they  are  skeptical, 
they  ask  many  religious   questions,  but  do  they 
ask  to  remove  doubts,  do  they  inquire  that  they 
may  win  faith,  or  only  to  gratify  their  taste  for 


Herod  loi 

dialectics,  to  find  occasion  for  argument,  to  ex- 
hibit their  logic  or  rhetoric,  to  see  if  they  cannot 
overthrow  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  teacher  ? 
The  purpose  of  inquiry  may  not  be  at  all  to 
know  Christ  and  His  truth,  but  to  show  them- 
selves off;  not  to  reform  life,  but  to  inform  the 
mind ;  not  to  change  the  heart,  but  to  gratify 
the  intellect ;  not  to  redeem  the  soul,  but  to  dis- 
play pride.  In  such  cases  the  only  answer  is  the 
answer  of  silence.  Let  our  adversary  try  to 
shame  us  into  retort,  even  as  Herod  tried  to  pro- 
voke Jesus ;  but  as  our  Master  did,  so  should 
we,  we  should  I  think  always  treat  the  question 
of  frivolous  curiosity  even  though  it  be  on  relig- 
ion with  absolute  silence. 

Then  most  pitiable  of  all,  Herod  was  weak,  yet 
like  most  weak  men  did  not  want  to  be  thought 
weak.  When  he  had  sworn  with  an  oath  to 
give  the  dancing  daughter  of  Herodias  even  the 
half  of  his  kingdom,  he  Httle  thought  it  would  in- 
volve him  in  the  violation  of  justice,  and  the 
murder  of  the  innocent.  Hence  when  he  was 
asked  for  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist,  the  weak 


102  Herod 

and  cowardly  king  dare  not  repudiate  his  oath, 
or  stand  out  against  the  demand.  In  the  pres- 
ence of  his  guests  all  waiting  to  hear  what  reply 
he  might  make  to  the  infamous  demand,  he 
would  maintain  what  seemed  consistency  even 
though  it  led  to  crime.  It  was  the  forced  and 
spurious  show  of  courage  of  the  coward.  But 
notice  how  involuntary  conduct  in  sudden  and 
unexpected  emergencies  is  often  one  of  the 
truest  tests  of  character  and  life.  When  one  is 
taken  unawares,  suddenly  tempted  or  tried,  then 
the  real  habitual  disposition,  tendency,  belief,  or 
character  is  brought  out.  This  test  is  like  the 
flash  hght  in  darkness,  a  sudden  and  instantane- 
ous revelation  of  life  which  under  the  cloak  of 
convention  and  external  conformity,  propriety  or 
habit  is  often  concealed  not  only  from  others, 
but  also  from  self.  To  be  confronted  unexpect- 
edly with  the  need  of  a  decision,  act,  or  issue  is 
often  a  revelation  of  pitiable  weakness  as  op- 
posed to  formal  strength,  of  actual  unbelief  as 
opposed  to  formal  faith,  of  unmitigated  selfish- 
ness as  opposed  to  outward  courtesy.     Unfaith- 


Herod  103 

ful  to  his  God  and  to  his  conscience,  not  ashamed 
of  any  crime  or  sin,  Herod  would  yet  be  faithful 
as  he  thought  to  his  half-drunken  oath,  and 
appear  honorable  and  true  before  his  compan- 
ions. What  honor !  as  honorable  to  tell  a 
second  lie  in  order  to  conceal  the  first,  as  hon- 
orable to  steal  with  which  stealings  to  win  a 
reputation  for  generosity,  as  honorable  to  take 
another's  life  in  a  duel  after  having  first  insulted 
him.  Honor !  Nay — criminal  weakness  and 
cowardice.  *'  It  was  not  so  much  Herod's  regard 
for  the  oath  which  he  had  taken,  but  his  shrink- 
ing from  the  taunt,  or  whispered  jest,  or  con- 
temptuous gesture  of  the  assembled  guests  if 
they  should  see  him  draw  back  from  his  plighted 
word.  A  false  regard  for  public  opinion,  for 
what  people  will  say  or  think  of  us  in  our  own 
narrow  circle  was  in  this  as  in  so  many  other  in- 
stances an  incentive  to  guilt  instead  of  a  re- 
straint." 

Have  we  escaped  the  weak  cowardly  fear  of 
what  people  will  say  or  think  of  us,  thus  often 
impelling  us  to  do  wrong  when  we  know  it  so  to 


104  Herod 

be  ;  have  we  escaped  thinking  ourselves  rehgious 
simply  because  for  various  reasons — whether  of 
curiosity  or  sensation,  intellectual  gratification  or 
superstition,  worldly  advantage  or  propriety — 
we  may  be  found  in  God's  house  joining  in  His 
worship  or  singing  His  praises  though  this  relig- 
ious observance  produce  no  vital  effect  in  our 
life  in  promoting  truth  and  righteousness,  justice 
and  honesty  ?  Have  we  gained  purity  of  thought 
and  life,  though  we  have  escaped  the  actual  lusts 
of  the  flesh,  and  the  commission  of  sensual 
deeds  ?  Let  us  test  ourselves  by  our  involuntary 
conduct,  our  unexpressed  wishes,  our  concealed 
thoughts.  Let  us  remember  that  there  are 
Herods  not  only  without  but  within  the  church. 
Where  do  we  stand  ? 


VI 

Barabbas 


T 


VI 

ISarabbas 

Ye  have  a  custom  that  I  should  release  unto  you  one  at  the 
passover;  will  ye,  therefore,  that  I  release  unto  you  the  King  of 
the  Jews  ?  Then  cried  they  all  again  saying,  not  this  man  but 
Barabbas.     Now  Barabbas  was  a  xohhtx.-^John  xviii :  39,  4°. 

HE  crisis  of  our  Lord's  Passion  culminated 

when  to  the  people  was  offered  by  Pilate 

the  choice,  "  Whom  will  ye  that  I  release  unto 

you  ?    Barabbas  or  Jesus,  which  is  called  Christ  ?  " 

We  can  imagine  the  intense  anxiety  of  the 

Roman  governor  as  he  put  this  question  to  the 

assembled  multitude.     We  can  believe  that  weak 

and  vacillating  as  he  was,  he  must  have  hoped 

the  people  would  not  hesitate  to  choose  Jesus. 

Were  they  not  Jews,  waiting  anxiously  for  the 

Messiah ;  did  not  these  crowds  only  a  few  days 

before  go  into  rapturous  ecstasies  over  this  same 

Jesus  as  He  came  from  Bethany  to  Jerusalem  ?     It 

107 


io8  Barabbas 

was  only  natural  that  the  Roman  governor  should 
believe  that  they  who  a  few  days  before  had  cut 
down  palm-branches  to  spread  them  in  the  way 
of  this  Prophet  of  Galilee  would  be  only  too  glad 
now  to  demand  His  release  and  freedom. 

We  can  imagine,  too,  the  intense  excitement 
of  the  chief  priests  and  elders  who  had  accused 
Jesus  before  Pontius  Pilate;  how  anxious  they 
would  be  that  the  multitudes  should  decide  for 
Barabbas  the  robber,  not  Jesus  the  prophet. 

We  can  imagine,  again,  how  anxious  must 
have  been  the  disciples  of  Jesus,  if  any  mingled 
with  the  crowds  before  the  governor's  palace. 
Would  the  multitude  choose  Jesus  their  Master, 
or  Barabbas  the  murderer  ?  What  a  tumult  of 
anxiety  must  have  heaved  in  the  heart  of  John 
the  beloved  disciple,  if  he  now  stood  in  the 
crowd  waiting  for  the  mob  to  decide  his  Master's 
fate.  How  anxious  must  Peter  have  been,  if  he, 
too,  was  present  in  that  raging  rabble,  and  be- 
held his  Lord  whom  only  a  few  hours  before  he 
had  so  shamefully  denied.  And  those  others 
that  had  fled — Andrew,  Thomas,  James  and  the 


Barabbas  100 

rest, — had  they  rallied  courage  to  mingle  in  this 
shouting,  moving  mass  before  the  governor's 
palace?  Had  they  seen  from  a  distance  their 
Master  insulted  and  mocked,  buffeted  and  spit 
upon  ?  Had  they  seen  Him  brought  out  thorn- 
crowned  before  the  people  and  heard  Pilate's 
speech,  "  Behold  the  Man ! "  If  so,  how  fear- 
fully anxious  and  nervous  they  would  be  to  know 
the  decision  of  this  fickle  mob  in  which  they 
stood. 

And  passing  from  earth  to  heaven  how  anx- 
ious, humanly  speaking,  must  have  been  the 
Father-heart — God  the  Father  as  He  too  waited 
to  know  the  decision  of  this  heaving  multitude 
— what  would  they  do  with  His  only  begotten 
Son  ?  And  with  the  divine  anxiety  may  we  not 
couple  that  of  the  celestial  hierarchy — the  angels 
and  archangels  and  all  the  heavenly  host, — who, 
if  they  rejoice  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth, 
must  have  been  supremely  anxious  to  know  what 
would  be  the  fate  of  their  Lord — the  Lamb  upon 
the  Throne. 

That  moment  was  a  supreme  moment  in  the 


1 1  o  Barabbas 

world  and  heaven.  It  seems  as  if  the  universe 
would  cease  its  motions  to  Hsten  with  awe  for 
the  decision  that  was  to  come — the  reply  that 
was  to  be  given  to  the  governor's  question. 
Upon  this  answer  depended  vital  and  irrevocable 
issues  of  time  and  eternity.  Upon  this  answer 
hung  the  immortal  destinies  of  countless  souls. 
Upon  the  answer  of  man  hung  the  fate  of  the 
Son  of  God.  What  a  moment  in  the  world's 
and  man's  history!  Can  we  not  believe  that 
everything  created  would  pause  and  hush  in  this 
solemn  anxious  moment!  And  hark!  Now 
comes  ringing  from  ten  thousand  throats  in 
hoarse,  mad  cry,  and  mighty  roar,  in  a  shout  full 
of  wild  rage,  and  angry  tumult,  heard  above 
every  other  noise,  "  Away  with  this  fellow — 
crucify  Him,  crucify  Him.  Not  this  Man  but 
Barabbas."  Ah  !  irrevocable  doom,  irreparable 
choice  !  The  world,  as  Adam,  is  once  more  tried, 
and  has  once  more  fallen.  The  old  Adam  has 
spoken  in  his  sons'  wild  cry,  "  Not  this  Man  but 
Barabbas."  The  choice  has  revealed  the  sinful 
nature,  and  the  diabolical  passions  of  man. 


Barabbas  III 

Barabbas  or  Jesus  ?  Who  were  they  ?  The 
sacred  writers  tell  us  little  of  Barabbas,  but  what 
little  they  do  tell  stamps  him  indelibly.  He  was 
a  notable,  i.  e.,  a  notorious  prisoner,  conspicuous 
among  criminals,  well  known  perhaps  in  the  land 
for  his  character  and  deeds.  He  had  been 
guilty  of  insurrection  and  sedition.  In  his  sedi- 
tion he  had  committed  murder ;  in  his  insurrec- 
tion he  had  probably  pillaged — for  we  read 
"  Barabbas  was  a  robber."  Bandit,  robber,  in- 
surrectionist, murderer,  he  was  noted,  he  was 
feared.  Now  he  was  safely  lodged  in  prison. 
His  lawless  career  was  checked.  His  robberies, 
his  murders  were  now  ended.  The  prison,  if 
anywhere,  was  the  safe  place  for  him,  and  peace- 
ful citizens  could  now  breathe  more  freely,  and 
dwell  more  securely.  Yes.  Barabbas  was  a 
notable  prisoner,  one  whom  we  would  scarcely 
wish  to  see  at  liberty. 

Barabbas  or  Jesus?  Whom  would  they 
choose  ?  Surely  it  would  seem  there  could  be 
no  second  thought  when  the  characters  of  the 
two  men  were  known.     For  on  the  other  hand 


112  Barabbas 


who  is  Jesus,  the  other  prisoner  whom  the  chief 
priests  wished  condemned?  Only  a  few  years 
before  there  burst  upon  the  people  of  Judaea 
and  Galilee  a  new  teacher  known  as  Jesus  of 
Nazareth.  It  is  true  He  did  not  have  the  regular 
rabbinic  training.  He  did  not  have  the  sympa- 
thy or  support  of  the  religious  leaders.  Still  He 
taught  as  one  having  authority.  His  teaching 
had  attracted  thousands.  His  gracious  words 
had  comforted  many  sad  hearts.  His  parables 
had  opened  new  meanings  in  life.  His  presence 
had  aroused  new  motives,  desires,  and  inspira- 
tions. Then  His  labors  had  not  been  confined 
to  teaching.  He  had  also  healed.  Yes  wonder- 
ful had  been  His  healing  power.  Lepers  were 
cleansed,  the  blind  received  sight,  the  lame  made 
to  walk,  all  manner  of  sickness  and  of  disease 
were  healed  by  this  Prophet  of  Nazareth.  Death 
itself  was  overcome — for  even  the  dead  He  had 
raised  to  life.  Further  the  forces  of  nature  were 
under  His  control.  Water  He  had  turned  to 
wine.  With  five  loaves  and  two  fishes  He  had 
fed   five  thousand.     The  raging  blast,  and   tu- 


Barabbas  1 1 3 


multuous  waves  He  had  quieted  with  His  words, 
"  Peace  be  still !  "  At  His  command  the  nets  let 
down  into  the  sea  were  drawn  up  with  fish  full 
to  breaking.  His  whole  life  had  been  one  of 
comforting,  teaching,  and  beneficent  mercy. 
Teacher,  healer,  prophet.  Saviour,  He  had  de- 
voted all  His  powers  for  the  benefit  of  His 
people. 

Here  then  was  the  choice  presented  to  the 
people, — •'  Whom  will  ye  that  I  release  unto 
you,  Barabbas  or  Jesus  which  is  called  Christ  ?  " 
— a  murderer  or  a  Saviour,  a  robber  or  a  restorer, 
one  who  had  struck  terror  into  people's  hearts, 
or  One  who  comforted  His  people's  griefs  and 
sorrows  ?  Could  there  be  any  reasonable  doubt 
that  the  people  would  choose  Jesus  ?  Was  not 
the  governor's  expectation  natural  ?  But  woful 
to  man's  hopes — even  here  as  so  often  the  unex- 
pected happens — the  vehement  cry  is  returned, 
"  Not  this  Man  but  Barabbas." 

What  a  choice  this  of  Barabbas  for  release  in- 
volved. It  was  a  choice  of  violence  instead  of 
mercy,  lawlessness  instead  of  law,  rebellion  in- 


1 1 4  Barabbas 

stead  of  loyalty,  crime  instead  of  rectitude,  the 
guilty  instead  of  the  innocent,  a  robber  instead 
of  a  benefactor,  a  murderer  instead  of  a  Saviour. 
Could  right  be  more  completely  crushed,  and 
wrong  be  more  triumphantly  victorious  in  such  a 
choice?  So  unnatural,  so  unexpected  Pilate 
would  think,  we  too  would  think.  The  choice 
stuns  us,  upsets  all  our  notions  of  justice.  We 
believe  such  a  decision  cannot  be  natural.  We 
shudder  at  it,  we  resent  it,  we  repudiate  it  with 
all  our  heart  and  might.  We  are  ready  to  con- 
demn both  Pilate  and  the  people.  Is  this  not 
so  ?  But  pause.  Consider  the  choice  more 
carefully,  measure  it  by  the  history  of  the  world, 
and  the  experience  of  life — yea  even  of  our  own 
limited  experience — and  is  the  choice  "  Not  this 
Man  but  Barabbas,"  so  strange,  unexpected,  or 
unnatural  ? 

The  choice  men  make  is  representative  of  their 
wishes,  a  revelation  of  their  desires,  a  key  of  their 
inmost  heart.  We  have  certain  stereotyped 
forms  for  conduct — formal  and  perfunctory — by 
which  we  measure  the  actions,  wishes  and  choice 


Barabbas  115 


of  others,  and  when  these  fail  to  come  up  to  this 
formal  standard  we  are  ready  to  accuse  and  to 
blame.  But  how  is  it  when  we  apply  the  same 
standard  to  ourselves  ?  Do  we  not  see  the  same 
failure,  the  same  inability  to  rise  to  the  plane  to 
which  we  had  expected  others  to  rise  ?  Yet  in 
our  own  case  does  it  seem  unnatural,  unexpected 
if  we  fail  ?  Do  we  not  excuse  our  failure  by  ad- 
ducing extraordinary  circumstances,  calling  our 
case  exceptional  ?  Was  then  the  choice  of  Barab- 
bas instead  of  Jesus  so  strange?  The  very  fact 
that  we  have  a  choice  involves  selection,  the  tak- 
ing one,  and  leaving  the  other.  And  if  we  con- 
sider the  choice  of  Barabbas,  its  unexpectedness 
disappears  when  we  remember  the  occasion  of  it, 
and  the  influences  which  determine  choice. 

It  was  the  custom  for  the  governor  to  release 
at  the  passover  any  prisoner  the  people  might 
demand.  This  was  a  yearly  privilege.  Hence 
when  this  particular  year  the  people  had  the 
usual  choice  offered  them,  they  would  exercise 
their  right  in  the  same  way  as  in  times  past. 
Were  they  to  know  that  the  choice  this  particu- 


1 1 6  Barabbas 

lar  year  was  so  momentous,  so  fearful  for  time 
and  eternity  ?  Were  they  to  know  the  supreme 
importance  of  the  occasion  and  the  great  need 
of  exercising  their  choice  justly,  righteously  ? 
Would  they  not  be  governed  this  year  by  the 
many  motives  that  had  governed  them  in  past 
years  ?  Would  not  the  same  influences  be 
brought  to  bear,  would  not  the  same  party  feel- 
ing, or  religious  prejudices  be  appealed  to  as  in 
former  years  ?  Would  not  the  party  leaders  and 
managers, — the  chief  priests  and  rulers — deter- 
mine how  the  people  should  choose,  and  would 
not  the  people  simply  accept,  and  by  their  choice 
register  this  decision  ?  Now,  I  ask,  is  this  un- 
natural, unexpected  ?  How  is  it  with  us  ?  It  is 
election  time.  The  poHtical  issues  are  before  us. 
How  do  people  act  ?  How  vote  ?  Do  they  con- 
sider the  paramount  and  supreme  interests  of 
their  city,  state,  or  country  ?  Do  they  vote  ac- 
cording to  fixed  convictions  of  righteousness  and 
truth  ?  Do  they  place  principles  before  party, 
patriotism  before  partisanship,  country  before  in- 
dividuals ?     Let  some  one  outside — some  wise, 


Barabbas  117 


disinterested  and  impartial  observer  watch  to  see 
how  we  act.  Do  we  not  go  according  to  our 
wont,  and  even  though  the  question  before  us  be 
of  vital  importance  to  our  welfare,  do  we  not 
choose  and  vote,  not  according  to  the  importance 
of  the  question  or  the  issue,  but  as  we  have  al- 
ways done — submit  our  wish  and  our  choice  to 
the  influences  that  have  in  past  years  directed 
and  controlled  us  ?  Do  not  a  few  leaders  gener- 
ally decide  for  the  mass,  while  Ave  do  no  more 
than  register  their  decision  ?  Was  it  then  so  im- 
portant to  the  mob  before  the  governor's  palace 
whom  they  chose — Barabbas  or  Jesus  ?  What 
was  the  ruler's  choice,  who  was  their  candidate  ? 
Did  not  the  chief  priests  urge  the  people  to 
choose  Barabbas  ?  The  people  had  always  obeyed 
them  before,  why  not  now  ?  Why  should  they 
now  differ  from  their  leaders  and  choose  differ- 
ently? Of  course  they  voted  according  to  theif 
leader's  dictation  and  cried,  "  Not  this  Man  but 
Barabbas." 

Was  this    choice,   then,   so    unnatural  ?     We 
look  at  this  throng,  and  hear  its  cry  after  these 


1 1 8  Barabbas 


many  centuries,  and  we  compare  its  conduct 
with  ours  to-day,  and  should  we  be  surprised — 
was  its  action  so  strange  ?  It  would  have  been 
strange  had  it  acted  otherwise.  The  strange 
thing  about  many  irretrievable  decisions  in  life  is, 
that  the  occasions  which  call  for  them  are  not 
strange  or  singular,  but  that  they  come  up  in  the 
regular  orderly  course  of  our  Hfe  in  a  matter  of 
fact  way.  The  choice  presents  no  unfamiliar 
aspect,  no  unusual  face.  We  have  been  in  the 
same  situation  before,  perhaps  frequently,  per- 
haps regularly,  why  then  should  any  single  oc- 
casion be  so  much  more  important  than  another, 
why  should  we  be  so  careful  to  exercise  our 
rights  and  privileges  lawfully,  truly,  justly  in  one 
particular  instance  and  not  in  others  ?  There  is 
no  reason.  Righteousness  is  not  sporadic.  It  is 
a  habit  gained  from  fixed  and  firm  principles, 
from  a  steadfast  adherence  to  truth  and  justice 
on  small  as  well  as  on  large  occasions,  in  little  as 
well  as  in  great  matters.  The  crisis  comes  and 
we  know  it  not,  and  our  action  will  be  deter- 
mined not  by  the  importance  of  the  question,  or 


Barabbas  119 

the  seriousness  of  the  choice,  but  according  to 
our  general  habit  and  practice  in  years  past. 
Hence  in  this  choice,  made  in  the  regular  exer- 
cise of  their  annual  privilege,  the  Jews  decided 
with  their  eyes  open,  with  perfect  deliberation, 
with  fair  understanding  of  the  facts  of  the  case, 
and  the  character  of  the  individuals.  They 
knew  who  Barabbas  was,  and  who  Christ.  But 
they  were  accustomed  to  be  influenced  in  times 
past,  and  now  they  were  still  subject  to  the  same 
influence.  They  were  not  independent  thinkers 
and  actors.  They  did  as  they  were  told,  not  as 
their  consciences  or  their  sense  of  justice  might 
direct.  We  say  how  weak,  how  unfortunate. 
But  I  ask — is  it  different  to-day  ?  Would  we,  do 
we  act  differently  ? 

Yes,  unfortunate  indeed  was  the  choice  be- 
cause of  its  limitation  and  irreparableness.  The 
choice  was  limited  to  one — not  Barabbas  a7id 
Jesus,  but  Barabbas  or  Jesus  ?  One  chosen,  the 
other  had  to  be  left,  one  acquitted,  the  other  had 
to  be  condemned,  the  one  liberated,  the  other 
had  to  be  crucified.     Then,  too,  the  choice  so 


1 20  Barabbas 

lightly  made  was  irreparable.  There  could  be  no 
undoing  of  it.  It  became  final  for  the  choosers 
as  well  as  for  the  one  chosen.  It  fixed  the  doom 
of  the  innocent.  There  was  no  redress,  no  ap- 
peal, no  escape.  The  consequences  must  now 
follow  the  choice,  there  was  no  room  for  repent- 
ance. The  people  had  "  denied  the  Holy  and 
the  Just,  and  desired  a  murderer  to  be  granted 
unto  them."  This  choice  could  never  be  re- 
voked or  cancelled.  It  must  stand  forever  in  the 
world's  history  an  irreparable  fact.  The  cry  of 
that  multitude  must  forever  go  ringing  down  the 
centuries  to  the  limits  of  time,  and  echo  forever 
in  the  Christian  consciousness.  Ah  !  that  hoarse, 
mad  cry  must  even  mount  up  to  the  courts  of 
heaven,  and  echo  and  reecho  through  those  ce- 
lestial arches — "Not  this  man  but  Barabbas." 
A  murderer  released,  and  the  Son  of  God  mur- 
dered.    Could  any  choice  be  more  tragic? 

Had  we  been  in  that  multitude  while  the  chief 
priests  were  urging  the  people  to  choose  Barab- 
bas and  reject  Jesus,  we  perhaps  fondly  imagine 
that  we  would  have  resisted  their  influence,  we 


Bar  abb  as  1 21 

would  have  shown  more  strength  of  character, 
greater  independence,  we  would  have  refused  to 
do  wrong  to  an  innocent  man — our  manhood 
and  sense  of  justice  would  have  urged  us  to  stand 
by  the  guiltless,  we  would  have  chosen  Jesus,  we 
would  have  rejected  Barabbas  no  matter  what 
others  did.  As  we  read  the  sacred  story  and  the 
tragic  crime  do  we  not  lament  the  blindness  as 
we  call  it  of  the  people,  and  wonder  at  their  wil- 
ful conduct  so  pitiably  weak,  so  unjust?  Had  we 
been  there  we  say  we  never  could  have  done  as 
that  riotous  mob,  nor  countenance  their  action. 
Yet  I  ask  are  there  not  mobs  to-day  ?  Do  not 
riot,  injustice,  and  persecution  of  the  innocent 
and  harmless  continue  ?  Again  in  our  life  in  the 
world,  in  our  business,  pleasures,  ambitions,  in 
the  mad  chase  for  wealth,  influence,  or  power,  in 
the  hot  pursuit  to  gratify  our  lusts,  desires,  and 
appetites,  do  we  not  hear  the  question  put  to  us 
"  Barabbas  or  Jesus  ?  "  Life  is  a  perpetual  inter- 
rogation. We  are  continually  confronted  with 
the  choice  of  truth  or  falsehood,  justice  or  injus- 
tice, sacrifice  or  indulgence,  holiness  or  sin — 


122  Bar  abb  as 

what  are  they  but  the  repeated  question,  "  Jesus 
or  Barabbas  ?  " 

What  is  Hfe  to-day  for  many  but  the  complete 
spiritual  shipwreck  of  their  souls, — the  absolute 
abandonment  of  Jesus  ?  How  many,  when  the 
choice  is  offered,  refuse  to  become  a  disciple  of 
Jesus ;  who  influenced  by  the  thought  or  actions 
of  friends  and  acquaintances  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  Him ;  who  virtually  by  their  deeds  say 
as  loudly  as  did  the  Jews  of  old  with  voice,"  Not 
this  man  but  Barabbas  "  ?  How  many  Christians 
also  abandon  their  Master  by  forswearing  their 
Christian  character,  by  giving  up  their  Christian 
living,  by  deserting  Christ  and  taking  up  with 
the  world. 

Ah !  there  comes  to  every  life  to-day  the 
choice,  and  with  so  many  it  is  Barabbas,  not 
Christ.  We  reject  the  Christ  every  time  we  per- 
secute the  innocent,  deliberately  do  them  injus- 
tice, and  hurry  them  to  ruin  or  death  by  our  in- 
iquitous treatment.  Do  we  want  to  be  put  to  the 
test  to-day,  do  we  want  to  choose  ?  Would  we 
choose  Jesus  if  offered  to  us,  would  we  have  done 


Barabbas  123 


so  nineteen  hundred  years  ago  ?  Ask  yourselves 
how  your  Hves  compare  with  His  holy  life,  how 
you  prepare  to  follow  in  His  holy  footsteps  ? 
Ask  yourselves  how  much  joy  it  gives  you  to 
imitate  His  life  of  patience,  gentleness,  sacrifice, 
surrender  ?  Ask  yourselves  how  you  love  holy 
men,  holy  places,  holy  things,  how  cheerfully  you 
obey  the  commands  of  God,  how  gladly  you  re- 
sign the  pleasures  of  this  earth,  how  detached 
you  live  in  this  life  ?  Yes,  ask  yourselves  how 
much  does  the  thought  of  God,  and  the  love  of 
God  enter  into  your  hearts  to  displace  the  love 
of  the  world  ?  To  what  poor  have  you  broken 
your  bread;  to  what  naked  have  you  given 
clothing ;  to  what  sick  have  you  given  comfort ; 
to  what  persecuted  innocent  ones  have  you  given 
shelter,  sympathy,  assistance;  how  have  you 
stood  for  the  truth,  for  justice,  for  right  ?  Ask 
yourselves  how  you  have  relieved  the  distressed, 
the  friendless,  the  vile  of  this  earth — the  pubH- 
cans,  the  sinners,  the  outcasts  of  life  ?  What  have 
you  done  for  them,  any  one  of  you  for  any  one 
of  these  ?     Answer  these  questions,  and  the  true 


1 24  Barabbas 

reply  will  determine  whether  \i  you  had  been  in 
that  mob,  at  that  Passover  season  in  Jerusalem, 
whether  you  would  have  stood  by  the  innocent 
Christ  or  shouted  to  condemn  Him.  Put  to  the 
test  now  even  as  then,  and  the  shouts  of  num- 
bers to-day  is  the  same  as  of  old,  as  vehement, 
as  cruel,  as  blasphemous — "  Not  this  man  but 
Barabbas." 


VII 

The  Meaning  of  the  Cross  (Good  Friday) 


VII 

®l)e  illeaning  of  tl)e  Cross  (®oob  jrribag ) 

They  crucified  Him. — John  xix  :  i8. 

E  Christians  talk  much  of  the  cross,  it  is 


w 


a  question  whether  we  bear  it  much. 
We  talk  of  its  shamefulness,  do  we  reaHze  it? 
The  cross  is  not  a  theory,  but  a  fact,  not  a  poetic 
speculation  but  a  cruel  reality,  not  an  ornament 
but  a  mode  of  daily  discipline,  not  simply  a  sym- 
bol to  be  put  upon  our  altars  and  placed  above 
our  churches,  but  an  experience  to  be  stamped 
into  our  lives. 

The  distance  in  time  between  Calvary  of  the 
first  century  and  this  twentieth  century,  the  famil- 
iarity with  the  thought  of  the  cross  has  greatly 
blurred  for  us  its  awfulness  and  humiliation,  its 
agony  and  its  shame.  As  one  of  our  modern 
writers  has  said,  "  Perhaps  the  simplicity  of  the 

symbol  has  cast  a  glamour  over  the  modern  mind 

127 


128  Tlic  Meaning  of  the  Cross 

and  blinded  us  to  its  strenuous  meaning.  Art, 
for  instance,  with  an  unerring  instinct  of  moral 
beauty,  has  seized  the  cross  and  idealized  it.  It 
is  wrought  in  gold  and  hung  upon  the  neck  of 
light-hearted  beauty ;  it  is  stamped  on  the  costly 
bindings  of  Bibles  that  go  to  church  in  carriages ; 
it  stands  out  in  bold  relief  on  churches  that  are 
filled  with  easy-going  people.  Painters  have 
given  themselves  to  crucifixions,  and  their  striking 
works  are  criticised  by  persons  who  praise  the 
thorns  in  the  crown,  but  are  not  quite  pleased 
with  the  expression  on  Jesus'  face,  and  then  re- 
turn to  their  pleasures.  Composers  have  cast  the 
bitter  passion  of  Jesus  into  stately  oratorios,  and 
fashionable  audiences  are  affected  unto  tears. 
Jesus'  cross  has  been  taken  out  of  His  hands  and 
smothered  in  flowers ;  it  has  become  what  He 
would  have  hated — a  source  of  graceful  ideas  and 
agreeable  emotions.  When  Jesus  presented  the 
cross  for  the  salvation  of  His  disciples,  He  was 
certainly  not  thinking  of  a  sentiment  which  can 
disturb  no  man's  life,  nor  redeem  any  man's  soul, 
but  of  the  unsightly  beam  which  must  be  set  up 


The  Mcariing  of  the  Cross  129 

in  the  midst  of  a  man's  pleasures,  and  the  jagged 
nails  that  must  pierce  his  soul." 

The  cross  was  not  idealized  by  the  evangelists. 
But  we  have  told  to  us  the  stern  and  awful 
reality  of  the  crucifixion  without  the  veil  of 
glamour.  There  is  something  most  tragic  in  the 
simple  narrative  "  they  crucified  Him." 

And  now  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  nineteen 
hundred  years  we  ask  again  the  meaning  of  the 
cross,  what  does  it  stand  for,  what  does  it 
represent  ? 

We  will  consider  what  the  meaning  of  the 
cross  is  in  the  life  of  Christ,  and  next  in  the  life 
of  man. 

First,  in  the  life  of  Christ.  The  cross  haunted 
Him  from  infancy,  its  shadow  fell  upon  His 
cradle  at  Bethlehem.  He  had  to  be  taken  to 
Egypt  to  escape  the  murderous  wrath  of  Herod. 
Then  during  His  long  interval  of  seclusion  in 
Galilee  He  was  preparing  for  the  cross.  His 
outlook  was  the  dim  and  distant  height  of 
Golgotha.  A  well  known  "  work  of  modern  art 
shows  Jesus  standing  at  the  door  of  a  carpenter's 


130  The  Meaning  of  the  Cross 

shop  and  stretching  Himself  after  a  long  day's 
labor.  The  setting  sun  falling  on  His  outspread 
arms  makes  the  shadow  of  the  cross,  and  carries 
terror  into  His  mother's  heart.  This  attitude  of 
the  body  was  typical  of  the  attitude  of  the  soul." 
His  face  beheld  this  shadow  continually  until  He 
came  face  to  face  with  the  reality.  We  ask 
what  is  the  meaning  of  the  cross  and  the  reply 
is,  it  means  sacrifice.  Where  there  is  no  sacrifice 
there  can  be  no  true  cross.  The  true  cross,  the 
cross  of  Christ,  the  cross  of  the  gospels  is 
only  found  in  sacrifice.  With  Christ  it  began  in 
His  self-renunciation  of  the  glories  of  heaven. 
In  heaven  itself  is  found  the  cross.  We  see  the 
beginning  of  the  sacrifice  in  the  offer  of  the  Son 
of  God  to  empty  Himself  and  to  make  Himself 
of  no  reputation,  to  take  upon  Him  the  form  of 
a  servant  and  to  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  man. 
The  cross  is  rooted  in  the  dawn  of  creation. 
The  wood  was  already  in  Eden,  where  was  the 
"  tree  of  life."  The  first  earthly  step  to  Golgotha 
was  taken  in  the  Incarnation  and  in  the  nativity 
at  Bethlehem.     Calvary  is  only  the  culmination, 


The  Meaning  of  the  Cross  131 

the  last  scene  in  the  world's  tragedy  of  sin  and 
salvation. 

Then  in  the  public  ministry  of  our  Lord  we 
see  the  doctrine  and  exemplification  of  the 
cross.  He  had  no  settled  home — as  He  Himself 
said,  "  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His 
head."  His  is  a  ministry  not  for  self  but  for 
others.  His  Hfe  is  a  sacrifice  of  time,  of  strength, 
of  service.  He  is  subject  to  rebuff,  to  criticism, 
to  opposition.  He  is  misrepresented.  He  is 
persecuted.  Not  a  step  did  He  take  which  was 
not  watched,  not  a  word  did  He  utter  which  was 
not  criticised,  not  a  miracle  did  He  perform 
which  was  not  challenged.  His  influence  with 
the  people  was  perpetually  thwarted  and 
minimized. 

But  if  the  cross  meant  sacrifice  it  also  was  a 
stumbling  block.  See  how  it  bars  the  way  to 
advancement.  He  who  carries  the  cross  has  few 
comrades,  few  followers.  The  chief  Cross-bearer 
found  this  out.  How  the  doctrine  and  sight  of 
the  cross  scattered  the  disciples.  How  they  fled 
when  faithfulness  might  mean  crucifixion.     How 


132  TJie  Meanmg  of  the  Cross 

soon  they  abandoned  the  Man  who  for  nearly 
three  years  had  been  preaching  to  them  the 
doctrine  of  the  cross,  a  doctrine  which  they  pro- 
fessed to  receive  and  to  accept.  Yes,  the  cross 
stands  for  denial  and  desertion.  It  is  the  great 
heart  searcher  and  divider.  It  reveals  the  real 
state  of  feeling,  it  proves  or  disproves  easy 
profession. 

Then  once  more  the  cross  in  the  life  of  Christ 
stands  for  the  endurance  of  injustice.  Perfidy 
and  covetousness  had  betrayed  Him ;  envy  had 
plotted  His  destruction ;  political  expediency  de- 
livered Him  up  to  be  crucified.  One  cannot  rise 
up  from  the  reading  of  the  crucifixion  without 
being  impressed  with  its  extreme  injustice.  We 
read  that  Pilate  the  Roman  governor  was  anxious 
to  release  Jesus.  Three  times  he  proposes  to 
release  the  prisoner  against  whom  no  just  ac- 
cusation can  be  brought,  whose  whole  bearing 
presented  a  wonderful  combination  of  innocence, 
courage,  and  patience,  but  each  time  the  roar  of 
Gvwy  and  injustice  drowned  the  half  hearted 
proposal     of    release : — "  Crucify     Him,"     was 


TJie  Meaning  of  the  Cross  133 

shouted  more  vehemently  than  "  I  will  therefore 
chastice  Him  and  release  Him."  The  cross 
means  the  endurance  of  injustice,  and  surrender 
to  the  spite  and  malice  of  persecutors. 

Then  once  more  the  cross  in  the  life  of  Christ 
stands  as  the  eternal  witness  of  God's  love  for 
man.  It  testifies  to  His  unwearied  appeal  to 
man ;  it  reveals  the  divine  method  of  reconciha- 
tion. 

Consider  now  what  the  meaning  of  the  cross 
is  in  human  Hfe.  What  it  must  mean  in  the  hfe 
of  each  of  us,  in  your  life,  in  my  life.  It  is  not 
a  toy  or  ornament,  it  is  not  some  poetic  symbol 
but  a  stern  and  cruel  reality  in  life.  It  reverses 
the  whole  human  conception  of  life  by  the  in- 
troduction of  a  new  principle  that  the  conquest 
of  Hfe  is  attained  only  by  the  sacrifice  of  life, 
that  we  gain  life  by  its  surrender,  that  the  cross 
is  to  be  taken  up  daily  and  borne  forward.  Only 
a  divine  example  could  make  such  a  principle 
acceptable.  The  world's  method  and  principle 
would  be  to  reject  the  cross,  and  to  repudiate  the 
principle    of    sacrifice   of    self.     It   would   fight 


1 34  TJlc  Meaning  of  the  Cross 

against  surrender  of  self  for  others.  It  would 
insist  not  on  humility  but  on  sovereignty,  not  on 
meekness  but  pride,  not  on  forgiveness  but 
revenge.  Sacrifice  is  not  an  earthly  idea.  Its 
birthplace  is  heaven,  its  originator  is  God.  It 
has  been  transplanted  from  heaven  to  earth,  it 
has  been  planted  in  the  hearts  of  men  by  the 
planting  of  the  cross  on  Calvary. 

Again  the  cross  in  human  life  stands  for  the 
awfulness  and  reality  of  sin,  and  the  need  of 
salvation  from  sin.  There  might  have  been  for 
all  we  know  other  methods  had  God  chosen 
them — but  He  has  chosen  only  one  method  for 
man's  salvation,  namely  through  the  cross  of  His 
Son.  "  There  is  no  salvation  of  the  soul  nor 
hope  of  everlasting  life  but  in  the  cross."  And 
how  real  and  how  awful  must  sin  be  when  it  can 
be  removed  only  by  the  death  of  the  innocent, 
the  just  suffering  for  the  unjust,  the  Son  of  God 
becoming  Man  to  redeem  man.  Interpret  sin 
in  the  light  or  rather  gloom  and  darkness  of 
Gethsemane  and  Calvary,  and  do  we  not  realize 
then  its  fearful  reality,  and  the  infinite  sacrifice 


The  Meaning  of  the  Cross  135 

offered  to  redeem  man  from  its  consequences 
and  power?  What  sort  of  attitude  should  it 
cause  us  to  take  to  sin,  how  Calvary  must  make 
us  hate  and  abhor  sin. 

Then  again  the  cross  in  human  life  means  a 
new  standard,  and  a  different  method.  It  stands 
in  eternal  opposition  to  the  world's  ways,  thoughts, 
ideals.  At  His  trial  our  Saviour  said,  "  My  king- 
dom is  not  of  this  world,"  meaning  that  His 
methods,  His  habits.  His  standards  were  differ- 
ent from  those  of  the  world.  Think  of  some  of 
the  precepts  of  the  divine  kingdom  where  the 
cross  is  the  standard.  "  Whosoever  will  be  great 
among  you  let  him  be  your  minister,  and  whoso- 
ever will  be  chief  among  you  let  him  be  your 
servant."  Again  "  whosoever  exalteth  himself 
shall  be  abased,  and  he  that  humbleth  himself 
shall  be  exalted."  Or  again,  "  what  is  a  man 
profited  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul,"  and  once  more, "  whosoever  will  save 
his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  whosoever  shall  lose  it 
for  My  sake  shall  find  it."  Yes,  the  cross  in 
human   life   means   that   we   must   change   our 


136  The  Meaning  of  the  Cross 

natural  conceptions  of  greatness  and  honor, 
rewards  and  successes.  That  another  judgment, 
another  standard  are  involved  in  the  entrance  of 
the  cross  into  human  life.  And  what  is  it  makes 
it  so  hard  in  the  world  to-day  for  us  to  reconcile 
ourselves  to  life?  Is  it  not  that  theoretically 
accepting  the  cross  we  have  not  accepted  its 
standard  and  method  ?  We  are  trying  to  invite 
into  our  home  God  and  Mammon,  we  are  trying 
to  entertain  them  at  the  same  time.  Is  it  a 
wonder  that  discord  reigns,  that  we  feel  the 
struggle  and  the  conflict,  that  we  are  tossed 
now  here,  now  there.  Ah !  why  not  end  this 
wretched  strife !  Why  not  realize  that  the 
standard  of  the  cross  and  that  of  the  world  are 
incommensurable — that  one  looks  to  eternity,  the 
other  to  mortality,  that  one  looks  to  character, 
the  other  to  pleasure,  one  looks  to  sacrifice,  the 
other  only  to  gratification. 

Then,  too,  the  entrance  of  the  cross  into  life, 
as  it  reveals  the  awfulness  of  sin,  reveals  also  the 
need  of  righteousness  and  holiness.  It  is  one 
thing  to  realize  our  degradation  and  disgrace,  it 


The  Meaning  of  the  Cross  137 


is  another  thing  to  remove  them.  Thus  the 
reahzation  of  sin  is  but  one  step  in  the  way  of 
the  cross,  the  full  path  must  lead  to  sanctification. 
Reconciliation  by  the  cross  involves  a  changed 
attitude  to  God  and  a  changed  nature.  The 
sinner  must  become  a  saint,  the  love  of  sinning 
must  change  to  the  love  of  righteousness,  enmity 
to  God  must  change  to  love  to  Him. 

How  much  the  cross  means  when  we  begin  to 
think  of  it.  And  does  it  not  result  in  conse- 
quences to  the  individual — to  those  who  are 
bearing  their  crosses  after  their  Great  Leader? 
Yes.  If  we  bear  our  cross,  does  it  not  involve 
for  us  a  crucifixion  likewise  ?  Oh,  brethren,  we 
who  talk  of  bearing  our  crosses,  how  often  we 
complain  when  we  come  to  our  crucifixion,  and 
yet,  I  ask,  if  you  have  not  already  thought  of  it, 
I  ask  why  are  you  bearing  the  cross  if  it  be  not 
that  you  must  be  crucified  upon  it,  must  bear  all 
its  shame,  humiliation,  pain  and  desertion  ?  "  The 
disciple  is  not  above  his  Master,  it  is  enough  that 
he  be  as  his  Master."  And  when  God  or  even 
the  world  calls  us  to  our  crucifixion,  the  cruci- 


138  The  Meaning  of  the  Cross 

fixion  of  our  hopes,  our  joys,  our  successes,  when 
on  the  cross  we  are  raised  by  suffering,  by  loss, 
by  bereavement,  what  is  this  but  following  in 
the  footsteps  of  your  Saviour  ?  What  is  it  but 
the  proof  of  the  truth  that  if  we  are  to  rise  with 
Christ  we  must  also  be  crucified  with  Him? 
Think  of  this  at  times,  brethren,  when  some 
mystery  of  life  darkens  your  home,  and  you 
seem  to  stand  baffled,  alone,  deserted,  or  per- 
secuted, remember  that  you  as  a  disciple  of  the 
crucified  as  well  as  risen  Christ  must  enter  your 
Gethsemane  and  climb  your  Calvary.  The  pain- 
ful journey,  and  the  heavy  load  are  not  all.  The 
jagged  naik  must  pierce  you,  and  you  must  be 
lifted  up  for  the  scorn  and  derision  of  men. 

Will  not  this  likeness  of  suffering  to  Christ's 
enable  you  to  interpret  much  of  the  sorrow,  many 
of  the  mysteries,  many  of  the  wrongs  which  enter 
your  lives  ?  Think  how  He  had  to  endure  unde- 
served, unjust  punishment.  You,  too,  may  have 
to  endure  the  same.  If  you  have  accepted  the 
cross  as  the  standard  of  your  life,  then  you  must 
also   accept  its   consequences.     You  must  take 


The  Meaning  of  the  Cross  1 39 

pattern  after  the  Great  Cross-bearer.  You  must 
endure  affliction.  You  must  submit  to  insult, 
injustice,  cruelty,  oppression.  You  must  endure 
slander,  malice,  hate.  You  must  endure  denial 
and  desertion.  You  must  be  wiUing  to  forego 
the  prizes,  the  hopes,  the  successes  of  this  world. 
Yes,  even  when  at  times  you  seem  to  be  reach- 
ing them,  and  strangely  the  world  is  applauding 
you,  you  must  be  ready  to  hear  the  distant 
murmur  forewarning  a  change  when  applause 
will  be  changed  to  curse.  You  must  prepare  for 
the  thorns,  the  nails,  the  cross.  Do  you  see  the 
vision,  do  you  realize  the  standard  ?  The  cross 
is  not  a  poetic  delusion,  a  historical  romance,  an 
idealization  of  suffering ;  but  it  is  even  now  and 
to-day  a  stern  reality,  a  daily  discipline,  an 
experience  stamped  into  our  lives.  They  cruci- 
fied Him — the  Christ.  They  may  crucify  you — 
the  followers  of  that  Christ. 


VIII 

Christ's  Resurrection  the  Answer  to  the 
Enigma  of  Death  (An  Easter  Sermon) 


VIII 

dljriBt's  Rfsurrecticm  tl)e  ^Jlusroer  to  tl)e  Enigma 
of  JDeatI)  (2lu  (Basin  Sermon) 

For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made 
alive. — I  Cor.  xv :  22. 

THE  great  mystery  of  life  and  of  death  is  a 
mystery  we  cannot  escape.  A  time  of 
health,  or  prosperity,  or  pleasure  may  dim  or 
veil  this  mystery  for  a  while,  but  some  severe 
sickness,  some  loss  of  beloved  friend,  relative,  or 
child ;  the  waning  of  strength,  the  lengthening 
of  age,  the  swift  whitening  of  hair;  the  deeper 
and  deeper  furrowing  of  the  lines  of  care  and 
time  on  the  face ;  the  growing  up  of  the  young 
to  maturity  whom  we  have  all  along  been  think- 
ing of  as  infants  or  children, — these  and  many 
more  circumstances  of  this  changing  and  fleeting 
mortal  life  impress  us  with  the  fact  that  our  lives 
are  being  borne  on  the  swift  tide  of  time  to  that 
unknown  land,  that  soon  for  us  the  light  of  day 

143 


144  CJirisfs  Resurrectioji 

must  fade  forever;  and  so  the  almost  forgotten 
mystery  of  life  and  death  becomes  for  us  real 
again.  Thus  Ave  stand  face  to  face  with  death 
v^ith  a  suddenness  which  is  almost  startling,  but 
the  mystery  remains  as  impenetrably  shrouded 
as  ever,  and  we  wonder  and  fear  and  hope. 

The  outlook  on  the  world  is  an  outlook  of  life 
always  ending  in  death.  Is  this  all — we  ask? 
We  look  out  on  the  world  of  nature  and  we  see 
things  live  to  die,  we  see  animals  live  to  die,  we 
see  men  live  to  die.  Is  death  the  finality  for 
man?  Many  answers  or  attempted  answers 
have  been  given.  Surmises,  hopes,  poetry, 
philosophy,  dreams  have  all  been  given  as  an- 
swers, but  they  have  failed  to  give  any  answer 
of  certainty.  At  best  these  answers  have  only 
been  a  "  maybe."  Like  a  swimmer  we  drop  as 
it  were  our  feet  to  touch  the  bottom  and  find 
none.  We  try  again  and  again,  but  still  we 
feel  in  vain.  Once  more,  we  send  our  voice 
out  into  the  void  of  the  past,  or  we  project  it 
into  the  formless  future,  and  we  hear  an  echo 
perhaps  of  our  own  question,  or  else  not  even  an 


Chris fs  Resurrection  145 

echo  is  heard  ;  silence  prevails.  Thus  we  may- 
ask  the  world  of  nature  what  its  answer  is  and 
we  receive  no  reply.  Facts  seem  to  say,  in  the 
grave  is  silence  for  evermore.  "  In  Adam  all 
die."  And  so  there  has  ever  been  a  mournful- 
ness  about  the  mystery  of  death  that  has  clouded 
the  mystery  and  the  joy  of  Hfe.  The  shadow 
clings — the  ghost  will  not  away.  The  greater 
the  light  the  deeper  the  shadow,  the  madder  the 
joy  and  revelry  the  more  insistent  the  intrusion 
of  the  ghost  to  spoil  and  mar  the  joy  and  mirth 
at  the  feast.  The  strongest  purposes  seem  mad- 
ness and  a  sheer  delusion ;  the  greatest  deeds 
seem  Hke  writing  in  the  sand  by  the  seashore ; 
the  most  potent  life  like  a  spark  of  light  which 
flashes  only  to  disappear.  All  life  seems  so 
broken,  unfinished,  particularly  all  individual  life. 
That  which  we  severally  call  "  I "  we  wish  to  re- 
main "  I "  forever.  But  yet  in  spite  of  our  stormy 
wishes  there  seems  to  be  a  fragmentariness  to  all 
individual  life.  Its  purpose  is  so  soon  cut  off, 
its  length  of  days  so  short  at  best,  its  powers 
so  weak.     Is  there  no  answer  to  the  question  of 


146  Christ's  Resurrection 

the  heart  which  yearns  for  some  reply  ?  Ah ! 
the  passionate  demands  and  stormy  questions  of 
men  and  hfe — is  there  no  answer  to  them  ? 
Must  things  always  be  so  unsettled,  must  men 
never  know  wherefore  they  are  made,  must  the 
immortal  mind  be  nothing  but  mortal  dust? 
Look  everywhere  for  a  reply,  and  you  find  none, 
neither  in  life  nor  philosophy,  nor  poetry,  nor 
dreams  until  you  come  to  the  religion  of  the  Son 
of  God,  who  to  the  questions  and  queries  says  in 
calm  and  solemn  tones  of  certainty  yet  triumph, 
"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life."  Then 
later  come  the  words  of  His  apostle  to  assure  us, 
"  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall 
all  be  made  alive."  The  one  and  only  answer 
which  has  been  given  without  doubt  or  hesitation 
is  the  Christian  answer;  and  the  only  reply  to 
the  mystery  of  the  fragmentary  life  of  man  is  the 
risen  life  of  Christ.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  is 
the  type  of  all  human  resurrection,  it  is  the  full 
and  final  answer  to  the  enigma  that  has  puzzled 
all  ages  and  all  peoples — the  enigma  of  personal 
immortality. 


Chris fs  Resurrection  147 

Let  us  consider  the  mystery  of  death  this 
Easter  day — the  one  day  in  the  year  which  in 
the  midst  of  a  mortal  and  decaying  world  can 
buoy  us  up  with  immortal  hope  and  joy,  can 
open  our  mouths  to  sing  with  triumph,  "  O  death, 
where  is  thy  sting,  O  grave,  where  is  thy  vic- 
tory?" What  has  the  teaching  of  this  day  to 
say  to  the  question  of  the  fragmentariness  of 
human  life,  and  what  is  its  answer  to  the  enigma 
of  death  ? 

Here  is  a  strong  life  in  whose  body  the  blood 
courses  with  vigorous  tide.  There  is  no  sugges- 
tion of  weakness  or  decay.  The  eye  is  bright, 
the  step  is  firm,  the  will  dominant.  Yet  in  a 
moment  without  a  minute's  warning  all  this  fair, 
strong,  godlike  life  is  ended.  The  vigorous 
strength  has  gone,  that  powerful  form  is  helpless, 
the  myriad  purposes  and  plans  are  ended,  that 
warm  beating  heart  is  cold.  The  body  that 
could  stand  and  defend  itself  is  now  utterly  help- 
less, unable  to  resist  the  insults  or  the  mutilations 
that  some  envious  rival,  or  some  inquisitive  anat- 
omist might  inflict.     We  stand  and  wonder  at 


148  Chris fs  Resurrection 

it  all.  And  we  ask  is  this  all  ?  We  can  believe 
that  the  natural  end  of  weakness,  sickness  and 
slow  decay  is  death,  but  can  we  for  strong  and 
young  hfe?  Is  not  this  sudden  cutting  off  a 
seeming  violation  of  nature,  a  frustration  of  the 
design  and  purpose  of  life  ?  Ah  !  this  fragmen- 
tary strength  of  man,  what  use  is  it,  if  this  be 
the  end,  the  only  end  ?  We  ask  the  seers  and 
wise  men,  the  astrologers  and  soothsayers  is  this 
all,  and  they  shake  their  heads  and  say,  "  we  do 
not  know."  To  the  sorrowing  relatives  and 
friends  who  come  to  them  for  comfort  they  can 
offer  only  hard  stones  of  ignorance  and  doubt. 
Is  there  no  other  answer?  And  we  hear  the 
Christian  answer  rising  in  the  far  distance  yet 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  until  it  fills  all  time 
and  all  life,  "  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in 
Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive."  The  unhesitat- 
ing and  undoubting  answer  to  the  tear  stained 
parents,  children  or  friends  is  "  thy  child,  thy 
parent,  thy  friend  shall  rise  again." 

Or  once  more,  here  is   one  whose  thoughts 
have  changed  the   face  of  the  world,  renewed 


Chris fs  Resurrection  149 

institutions,  nations  and  peoples.  He  has  stirred 
the  hearts  of  men  to  break  through  the  fetters  of 
superstition,  he  has  led  them  into  truth,  he  has 
filled  them  with  hopes,  joys,  aspirations  and 
courage  that  enable  them  to  risk  all  and  dare  all 
— even  to  sacrifice  life  itself — to  maintain  spirit- 
ual liberties  which  have  dawned  upon  them. 
And  in  time  he  who  thought  these  thoughts,  and 
spoke  these  words,  and  moved  these  hearts  dies, 
as  we  say.  His  thoughts  have  become  the  prop- 
erty of  man  for  all  time.  They  are  an  immortal 
inheritance.  Yet,  I  ask,  is  it  reasonable  that 
thoughts  should  last  beyond  the  mind  which 
created  them,  that  words  should  be  greater  than 
their  speaker,  that  the  idea  should  be  immortal 
and  the  idealist  mortal  ? 

Further  here  are  deeds  of  love  and  charity 
based  on  endowments  that  shall  last  through 
ages.  A  church,  a  hospital,  a  college,  an  asy- 
lum— they  are  endowed  so  that  they  shall 
strengthen  as  the  ages  lengthen,  and  widen  as 
the  generations  of  men  widen,  is  it  reasonable 
that   the   deed    can   be  greater  than   the  doer? 


150  Chris fs  Resurrection 

They  have  all  gone — the  strong  man,  the  great 
thinker,  the  masterly  genius,  the  devout  alms- 
giver  and  philanthropist,  are  they  not  in  all 
cases  greater  than  their  work  whatever  it  be  ? 
Must  they  not  possess  an  immortality  far  be- 
yond anything  they  ever  did  ?  Think  of  this 
sometimes,  brethren,  as  you  ponder  the  mystery 
of  life  and  death,  and  see  if  it  does  not  afford  an 
answer  for  some  of  the  enigmas  and  problems 
that  perplex  you.  Is  not  the  thinker  always 
greater  than  the  thought ;  is  not  the  doer  always 
greater  than  the  deed  ;  must  not  the  worker  pos- 
sess a  larger  immortality  than  his  immortal 
work ;  is  not  the  inspirer  always  greater  than  his 
inspiration,  must  not  the  idealist  be  more  endur- 
ing than  his  ideal  ? 

The  fragmentariness  of  life  meets  us  on  all 
sides.  What  activity  does  not  death  end  ?  Here 
is  great  capacity,  and  just  as  it  is  developing, 
it  is  cut  short ;  here  is  mental  development  be- 
gun, and  it  is  suddenly  blighted.  Here  are 
affections  and  love  turning  the  wilderness  into  a 
garden,  and  softening   the  hard   hearts  of  hate 


Chris fs  Resurrection  151 

and  anger  and  they  too  are  quenched.  Here 
are  efforts  just  begun,  it  needs  only  time  and  the 
master  hand  to  bring  them  to  completion  and 
perfection,  but  while  time  continues  the  master 
hand  is  laid  low.  Dreams,  aspirations,  purposes, 
high  endeavor,  all  are  shattered.  The  noblest 
and  the  holiest  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  men 
can  scarcely  begin  to  run  their  race  ere  darkness 
settles  upon  them  and  their  night  has  arrived. 
Everything,  and  every  one  can  get  so  far  and  no 
farther;  beginnings  innumerable  are  found 
everywhere,  but  endings,  completions,  perfec- 
tions, nowhere.  Everything  is  fragmentary. 
We  walk  as  it  were  in  a  silent  city.  On  all  sides 
we  see  houses,  some  large,  some  small,  some 
grand,  some  mean,  some  partly  finished,  some 
only  begun ;  a  foundation  laid  here,  there  a  wall 
partly  up ;  again  some  seem  to  be  almost  com- 
plete ;  but  wherever  we  look  we  see  nothing 
finished,  and  nowhere  is  there  a  workman  in 
sight.  We  walk  through  the  streets  and  avenues 
of  this  silent  unfinished  city  exhibiting  beauty  of 
design  and  seeming  purpose,  yet  all  apparently 


152  Christ's  Resurrection 

deserted.  On  all  sides  we  see  signs  of  recent 
work,  but  nowhere  a  workman — not  a  voice, 
not  a  sound.  And  we  ask — is  this  city  begun 
and  laid  out  with  consummate  skill  and  design, 
which  already  displays  beauty  and  grace,  which 
even  now  by  these  unfinished  buildings  gives  in- 
timations and  an  idea  of  the  complete  purpose, 
is  this  city  apparently  deserted  never  to  be  com- 
pleted ?  Can  the  mind  which  planned,  and  the 
hands  which  labored,  can  they  abandon  what 
they  have  already  begun  ?  And  we  reply  no ! 
The  master  mind,  or  the  master  workman  may 
seem  absent  just  now,  but  we  cannot  believe  that 
what  he  has  planned  on  so  grand  and  noble  a 
scale  and  has  already  begun  he  will  totally  de- 
sert. To  do  so  would  be  to  confess  failure,  de- 
feat, powerlessness.  And  from  what  we  have 
seen  we  cannot  acknowledge  such  defeat  and 
powerlessness.  But  one  day  this  city  will  rise  to 
its  completion  and  perfection,  and  the  fully 
matured  design  will  appear  in  all  its  beauty,  rich- 
ness, and  usefulness.  Even  so  is  it  with  life  here. 
We  walk  through  it  as  through  a  city  begun  but 


Christ's  Resurrectio7i  153 

not  completed,  and  all  its  frustrations  and  sudden 
ends,  its  fragmentariness  and  incompletion  will 
one  day  be  completed  in  the  eternal  city  of  God. 
One  great  mistake  which  we  nearly  all  make 
when  we  approach  this  mystery  of  death  is  the 
limited  view  we  take  of  life.  We  call  life  frag- 
mentary, we  forget  that  here  is  only  its  begin- 
ning. But  if  we  look  at  the  hfe  of  Christ  we 
shall  be  taught  our  lesson.  How  fragmentary 
His  life  seemed,  how  Httle  He  did,  what  limita- 
tions hedged  His  short  three  and  thirty  years. 
How  incomplete  and  unfinished  we  are  apt  to 
say.  But  is  this  all  ?  Is  it  not  true  of  Him,  and 
so  of  us,  that  His  earthly  life  was  typical,  and 
was  but  the  beginning  of  His  atoning  life  ?  That 
His  life  goes  on  to  completion,  and  perfection  in 
His  risen  and  ascended  life,  that  at  the  right 
hand  of  God  He  has  brought  to  full  fruition  the 
fragmentary  earthly  life?  It  is  the  future  hfe 
which  is  to  be  the  full  vindication  of  God's  pur- 
pose, wisdom  and  love  to  us.  This  life  is  but  a 
small  part,  only  a  beginning,  there  beyond  shall 
be  the  further  and  larger  growth,  there  the  ripen- 


154  Christ's  Resurrection 

ing  and  beauty  of  perfection.  Let  us  lift  our 
eyes  above  the  rim  of  our  little  horizon  of  time, 
and  peer — though  it  be  but  a  short  distance — into 
the  dim  and  ever  widening  and  lengthening,  and 
eternal  future.  With  this  thought  we  shall  see 
that  to  talk  of  the  fragmentariness  of  human  life 
is  to  talk  idly,  but  that  life  is  continuous  and 
goes  on  forever. 

Again  let  it  be  said  that  as  "  in  Adam  all  die, 
so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive,"  is  a  per- 
sonal answer  to  the  personal  question,  "  Shall  I 
hve  ? "  It  is  the  reply  to  the  vain  and  cruel 
theory  of  a  racial  immortality,  an  answer  to  the 
dread  fear  of  the  loss  of  personal  immortality. 
Brethren,  the  resurrection  of  Christ  is  the  answer 
to  your  individual  question,  "  Shall  I  rise  ?  "  The 
divine  reply  is,  the  resurrection  is  personal,  the 
immortality  is  personal.  We  are  not  to  be 
swallowed  up  at  the  last  into  some  eternal  spirit, 
there  to  lose  forever  our  identity  and  personality, 
merged  into  a  quietude  of  inanition  and  inaction. 
But  for  us  all  eager,  hungry,  longing  for  our  own 
personal  life  now,  and  hereafter,  the  risen  Hfe  of 


Christ's  Resurrection  155 

Christ  says  to  us,  "  You  and  you,  each  of  you 
shall  rise  again."  We  each  shall  rise  unmixed, 
and  unswallowed. 

And  thus  for  each  of  us  comes  a  lesson  as  well 
as  hope.  We  are  taught  to  look  far  beyond  the 
present  and  the  finite.  We  are  taught  to  think 
of  our  lives  not  as  some  chips  or  fragments  of 
life,  hewn  it  may  be  from  some  massive  block  or 
quarry  of  life  without  purpose  or  end,  but  as 
having  continuity,  purpose,  and  design.  We  are 
taught  to  value  the  present  as  the  birthday  of 
eternity,  the  present  as  the  time  for  learning  our 
steps,  crawling  and  stumbling  it  may  be,  but 
learning  to  walk  that  so  when  we  pass  under  the 
veil  we  shall  be  ready  to  enter  on  that  race  after 
perfection,  and  to  understand  the  glorious  design 
of  God  which  transcends  all  human  conception  or 
thought.  "  For  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard, 
neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  the 
things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that 
love  Him."  There  shall  be  life  whose  length, 
and  breadth,  and  depth,  and  height  passeth  all 
human  understanding  and  knowledge ;  there  shall 


156  Chris fs  Resurrection 

continue  the  long  and  eternal  career  which  here 
we  have  hoped  and  panted  for  with  hungry- 
hearts,  and  straining  eyes,  and  bated  breath. 
Ah !  Friends,  brethren  in  Christ,  what  does  not 
the  Resurrection  of  Him  who  died  and  rose 
again  open  to  us  ?  Words  fail  before  the  sur- 
passing vision,  thoughts  tremble  at  the  glorious 
prospect,  hope  even  halts  ere  it  dare  proceed  to 
the  realization  of  its  long  dream  and  expectation. 
And  so  I  ask,  is  not  the  risen  hfe  of  Christ  an 
answer  to  explain  the  fragmentariness  of  our 
earthly  life,  does  it  not  solve  all  mysteries, 
enigmas,  and  doubts  by  the  sublime  hopes,  ay, 
by  the  positive  assurance  which  it  offers  us  ?  Do 
we  not  rise  to  the  height,  the  daring,  the  glory  of 
immortal  beings  with  such  a  divine  and  immortal 
future?  Is  not  the  risen  life  of  Christ  a  help  to 
us  to  stride  over  and  surmount  all  difficulties  here, 
to  rise  above  the  petty  trifles  which  consume  our 
lives,  and  evaporate  our  thoughts  ?  Does  it  not 
also  give  rest  to  the  aches  and  pains  of  the  heart 
and  soul  ?  Ah  !  does  it  not  soothe  the  bereaved 
heart,  does  it  not  take  the  sting  from  the  bitter- 


Chris fs  Resurrection  157 


ness  of  death  itself,  to  know  that  as  "  in  Adam  all 
die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive  "  ? 

One  great  motive  we  should  gain  on  this 
Easter  day,  viz.,  that  of  immortal  hope  to  cheer 
us  when  weary,  to  spur  us  for  greater  flights,  and 
to  nerve  us  to  greater  courage  and  endurance ;  to 
lift  up  our  hearts  in  gratitude,  and  our  voices  in 
anthems  of  joy  to  the  great  God,  eternal,  im- 
mortal, invisible,  the  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of 
lords,  whose  mercy  and  love  are  so  boundless  and 
constant;  to  rejoice  in  the  possession  of  a  Hfe 
endowed  with  such  infinite  possibilities  and  ever 
widening  scope  of  entering  into  the  divine  life, 
of  leaving  this  earth  with  its  darkness  and  death, 
until  at  last  on  the  great  day  of  the  general 
resurrection — the  great  eternal  Easter  day — we 
may  rejoice  as  we  see 

"  Out  of  the  shadows  of  night 
The  world  rolls  into  light 
It  is  daybreak  everywhere." 

Then  shall  we  enjoy  eternal  light  in  the  presence 
of  the  Eternal  God,  and  eternal  life  in  the  light 
of  the  Eternal  Light. 


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